


Good Jokes

by Pinnithin



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Blood, Gore, Guns, M/M, Scene Rewrite, Slow Burn, Violence, canon divergence if you squint real hard, tommy is a comedy genius and gordon is the only one who catches it, tommy pov is best pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 67,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25242469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinnithin/pseuds/Pinnithin
Summary: Wow, this guy asked a lot of questions. He looked adorably lost. Tommy could point him in the right direction, but his mention of the break room reminded him of the nonsense on the wall in there, and he fought down a snort of laughter. Maybe the new guy would appreciate the signs.A dramatic novelization of the Half Life VR but the AI is Self Aware saga from the point of view of Tommy Coolatta.
Relationships: Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 506
Kudos: 909





	1. Chapter 1

The new posters on the board in the break room had Tommy in stitches.

Who put this up here? They were huge sheets of paper, large enough to cover the rest of the flyers that were tacked on first. The printer’s settings were fucked, apparently, and it had rolled out three crisp eleven by seventeens of incomprehensible inky bullshit. 

Tommy stood in front of the bulletin laughing for thirty straight seconds when he first walked in for his break. The fact that someone had printed out this garbage and still put in the effort to post them here was cracking him up. His coworkers, humorless as ever, were giving him strange looks for the fit of giggles he was in, so he popped the tab on a can of Sprite from the vending machine to try and calm down.

Distantly, he heard an unfamiliar, animated voice echo further down the hall. Right, the new guy was here today. The guy who was going to put on the fancy orange suit and risk his life for science. Tommy was supposed to be working on that project, too, making observations from behind a sheet of safety glass. 

He wandered down the hall toward the voice, figuring he might as well be polite and introduce himself. Not a lot of folks around here liked to talk much, and he could hear the discouraged faltering in the man’s words as he tried and failed to make conversation. Maybe it would be nice to have a talker around. Keep things interesting.

When he rounded the corner, Tommy had to pause and regain his bearings. So the new guy was cute. He had dark curly hair, a beard that was neat-but-not-too-neat, and a charming smile that showed off his dimples. His face was framed by a tasteful pair of glasses and he walked like he had places to go, people to see. Friendly, but studious. Tommy wanted to derail him from his quest immediately.

“Hello,” he cast a greeting down the hall.

The new guy paused mid-stride, somewhat startled. “Hello.” What was his name again? Freeman? He was an MIT boy, if Tommy recalled correctly, a physicist who had published a thesis that was so long Tommy had stopped paying attention halfway through the title. A man of many words. A man of  _ too _ many words, perhaps.

Oh, shit, he was walking over here.

“I’m new,” Tommy blurted, even though he wasn’t. Good job, idiot.

“You’re new here? Me, too, I think,” the new guy replied, brow wrinkled studiously as he approached.

_ I think? _ Maybe they were both idiots. Tommy gave the man a quick up-and-down look. He was a big guy, but well built. Athletic. Hard to believe he transferred from the education sector. 

“What’s your name?” Tommy asked.

“Gordon Freeman.”

Right, that was it. Tommy remembered looking at his file now. “My name’s Tommy,” he told him, his grip tight on his Sprite can.

Gordon Freeman raised his eyebrows, like he was surprised someone had bothered to talk to him. “Tommy?” he repeated.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, Tommy,” he went on. “Are you - what department are you in? Where are you supposed to be right now? You headed to the break room?”

Wow, this guy asked a lot of questions. He looked adorably lost. Tommy could point him in the right direction, but his mention of the break room reminded him of the nonsense on the wall in there, and he fought down a snort of laughter. Maybe the new guy would appreciate the signs. 

“Yeah,” he affirmed. “I like to read the billboards there.”

‘Billboards’ wasn’t right. It was a bulletin board; Tommy caught it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. But it made Gordon laugh in a puzzled sort of way, and it was such a lovely sound that Tommy left it. 

“The - the billboards? In the break room?” he asked in bewilderment. “Are they - putting ads up in there?”

Tommy was fighting back another snicker. “Yeah,” he said, turning away to hide the grin on his face. “Follow me.”

He led the new guy down the hall and to the break room, passing the greasy microwave and the gaggle of disinterested coworkers. Man, those posters were even funnier the second time. Tommy wanted to find the person who had tacked them up and shake their hand.

“Oh, is this what you were talking about?” Gordon asked, realization dawning as he saw the bulletin. He cast Tommy a prompting look. “The  _ billboards _ ?” He asked, politely giving him a chance to correct himself.

That was considerate of him, Tommy thought, but he stuck to his guns - he was already too far in the bit. “Yeah, tell me what it says,” he threw back.

He was going to pop a blood vessel trying not to laugh, and Gordon could clearly tell by now. Letting out a breathy chuckle, he glanced up at the bulletin and played along.

“Yeah, I can’t read it either, dude,” Gordon said, dark eyes passing over the nonsense in front of him. “Maybe he can?” He tossed the question to one of the scientists loitering nearby, who muttered something rude under his breath. Gordon turned an unflappable smile back to Tommy, ignoring his coworker. “Yeah, maybe.”

Oh, Tommy liked this one. He wanted to keep him for himself. Nobody around here appreciated his jokes, much less ran with them.

“I don’t know what it - can you read?” Gordon went on.

It took Tommy a half second to parse if he was serious or not, and realized the question was a continuation of the joke. He mimed a studious pose, taking a thoughtful sip from his Sprite as he pretended to decipher the clouds of ink. 

“I’m trying, but it’s very - I -” He was breaking - he couldn’t help it - snorting out a laugh. “The person who printed all these papers really fucked up.”

Gordon was grinning fully now, shading his eyes from a nonexistent sun as he glanced back at the notice board. “I think they used like, one DPI? Y’know - you know how a printer works? Like, dots per inch? I don’t think they got any - like - the right amount of dots - I can’t read any of this.” He gave another prompting glance to Tommy, clearly enjoying their little vignette. “What do you make of that?”

This man spoke like a machine gun, and it delighted Tommy. The words just came firing out of him with barely any comprehensive thread between them, a steady stream of consciousness straight from his brain to his mouth. It was wonderful. He shook his head in disbelief that someone so fun had just fallen into his lap.

“I don’t know,” was all he could reply.

Still chuckling, but still in a hurry, Gordon did his best to excuse himself politely. He had a test chamber to get to. “Are you staying here?” he asked.

Tommy wanted to follow him, but he had no real reason to outside of his attraction to the guy, so he nodded. “I’m on,” he faltered, glancing down at the Sprite in his hand, “lunch break.” 

Gordon’s laughter staccatoed his farewell. “Okay, we’ll see - I’ll s- I’ll catch you later, Tommy.”

Tommy was grinning like a fool as he watched him leave the break room. Charming guy. Hilarious. Sharp as a tack, if a little scattered. His laugh sounded like bells ringing and he loved it.

“I drink soda for lunch,” he called down the hall after him, one last attempt to pull that laugh from him before he saw him again. 

Gordon must not have heard him, because he didn’t reply. That was fine. They’d cross paths again. Tommy would be watching him very closely as they ran the test today.

\---

The test chamber in the Anomalous Materials department wasn’t Tommy’s favorite place in the world. He thought the spectrometer was grandiose in a spooky sort of way, its rotating claw hanging menacingly from the ceiling. He was glad Gordon Freeman was the one going in the barrel instead of him.

Everyone who worked down here had a grim purpose about them, and it weirded Tommy out. There were many times during his research that he tried to lighten the mood, but most of his jokes sailed over his coworkers’ heads. Or they were rudely ignoring him. At this point, either option was plausible.

He stood behind the reinforced safety glass alongside the other members of the research team. All of them were older than he was, the majority born in the facility, which Tommy concluded was the only quality they really had in common. He was well qualified for the job with his range of experience and his Ph.D. in nuclear engineering, but whispers of nepotism still sometimes circulated.

Tommy ignored them for the most part. Everyone who worked for Black Mesa was stuck living in an underground bunker regardless of pay grade, so it wasn’t like he was any better off than his peers in that regard. He didn’t make anyone call him Dr. Coolatta, either, because that just sounded fucking stupid. Dr. Thomas Coolatta? Please. Tommy was fine.

He was zoning out, lost in his thoughts, when he noticed a blip in on the ground floor of the test chamber. The blip took the form of a short man in a blue uniform, and suddenly Tommy was very uneasy. He knew that guy. 

Seconds later, the doors to the chamber whirred open, and Gordon Freeman strolled in. Tommy watched him gesticulate angrily at the security guard who had spontaneously manifested inside the spectrometer. He put two and two together and figured Benrey had been following Gordon for some time, riling the other man up as he was so wont to do to people. This could be bad. He reached over on the control panel and hit the broadcast button on the mic, ignoring the murmurs of indignation from his colleagues. 

“Hello?”

Both of the men in the barrel whipped their heads up to the control room. Tommy raised a hand in a grim wave. 

Benrey cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered back at him, voice grating in his ears, shivering down his spine. “Tommy!”

He had to handle this carefully. The entity in the chamber with Gordon was an anomaly that Tommy should have considered, but he hadn’t predicted Benrey would have latched himself onto the new guy so quickly. He darted a glance to his coworkers, who were all staring at Tommy expectantly, and then down to the scene below. There were things Tommy knew that the others weren’t allowed to know.

His hand was still on the intercom. “Gordon,” he began carefully.

“Tommy,” Benrey cut him off, a threat in his voice. The two of them stared one another down through the pane of glass, unspoken words passing between them. Finally, he sighed heavily. “Hi,” he muttered.

“Tommy, do you know this man?” the scientist beside him asked.

He was an older gentleman, the product of an experiment that probably had a name at one point, but had gone by ‘Bubby’ for as long as Tommy could remember. Tommy would have thought the nickname was a joke if Bubby had a single humorous bone in his body, which he didn’t. Well, unless he counted his humerus. Which he also didn’t.

Tommy killed the mic and fixed Bubby with a careful look. “He’s not a man,” he said without elaboration. He didn’t have to. Bubby could connect the dots well enough on his own. 

On Tommy’s left, another colleague jockeyed beside him to hit the intercom button. He was a cheerful fellow, empty-eyed and cotton-headed. Tommy recalled that his name was Coomer. He also recalled that brawl in the dining facility a while back where he had knocked a fully grown man out with one punch.

“You know, he didn’t bring his passport,” Dr. Coomer informed the team brightly over the loudspeaker, even though they were all standing in the same room with him.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I heard you don’t have your passport,” he said dryly down to Gordon.

But the new guy was occupied with the entity standing next to him, gesturing in agitation as he spoke with him, pointing to the chamber door. Probably was trying to get Benrey out of there. Worried about his safety. It would be a reasonable request made by any decent human, one that should have been backed up by the rest of the staff.

Several pairs of eyes were watching Tommy, knowing his security clearance, waiting for his decision. Benrey would be fine; he couldn’t be killed by any normal means. Tommy’s concern was for Gordon, bright orange and oblivious in his HEV suit below. If something went wrong, he would be paying for it. 

He looked at Bubby again. “Standard procedure,” he told him. 

If Benrey was up to no good, which he almost always was, Tommy could stop him. He could blink down there in an instant and kick him into another dimension for a while. Not fun, not easy, but he could do it. He moved closer to the glass, deciding to watch and wait. 

The two figures dicked around in the test chamber for an insufferable amount of time, a fact that Tommy would find incredibly funny if it weren’t Benrey in there with Gordon. His colleagues were backing up Tommy’s decision, assuring Dr. Freeman that this was all normal and part of the process, while Gordon grew increasingly agitated. Poor guy. He had no idea what was going on. 

Tommy decided to throw him a bone, leaning into the mic again. “Gordon?” he prompted. “Do you see the next step?”

The grinding of machinery in the room drowned out most of his response, but Tommy caught what he needed to. Push the shit into the thing. So easy an MIT grad could do it. 

“Yes,” he affirmed. 

“Very carefully,” Bubby said seriously over Tommy’s shoulder, miffed that he had been nudged away from the mic. 

“Very carefully,” Tommy agreed. “Slower than molasses drips off a spoon,” he added, simply because he couldn’t help himself, ignoring the puzzled looks the other scientists passed in his direction.

He couldn’t really hear Gordon’s laughter, but he saw the man’s shoulders shake with mirth and his even teeth flashing that pretty smile. Tommy grinned. Worth it. 

That was the only bright spot Tommy got to have before everything went to shit. Benrey was hassling Gordon mercilessly, Bubby was grinding insults into the mic, and Dr. Freeman was losing his mind. Tommy was standing there, taut like a mousetrap. Laser focused on Benrey. He was not paying attention to Gordon, or the glass shattering in front of him, or the error alarm blaring over the loudspeakers. 

He did, however, catch the flashbang of light from the spectrometer. The ghost-white form of Bubby vaulting over the console and through the broken window. He tore his eyes away from his target for a second, and then there was electricity raising his hair and voltage shivering through the building and an acid-green shockwave flashing over all of them.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Benrey was nowhere to be seen. Tommy gripped the edge of the window, ignoring the slice of broken glass into his palms. Bubby looked… utterly dead, in a crumpled heap below him. Shock was forcing a waterfall of panicked words out of Gordon as he watched everything crash down around his head.

The machine groaned and surged outward. Tommy had seconds to choose: find where the fuck the entity went and snap him out of existence, or shield the new guy before he turned into a smoking crater on the ground.

Tommy made a decision. The world ripped apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People asked for more Tommy work from me so I am delivering accordingly. I love this man, he's so fucking smart and I really enjoy writing from his perspective. A lot of these are going to be lifted straight from the streams themselves but I'll probably veer off canon in small details just to make the scene run smoother. We'll see how long this series goes; I have no real end in mind so I'll probably just chip away at this as inspiration hits.
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely feedback on my previous works - I had no idea people were so starved for good Tommy food so I am here to fill the shortfall.


	2. Chapter 2

The Resonance Cascade  _ hurt _ . Tommy felt the dimensional rift tear open space as if it were a hole punching through his own body. Even with his limited power there was no way he could have stopped something so catastrophic from happening. By the time the convulsions died down, the monsters had already hopped the gap.

Black Mesa was buckled and warped like a Coke can left in a freezer. Tommy wound up somewhere further away from the blast than he anticipated and had to pick his way through the wasted hallways to get back to the explosion site. What a mess. He passed the bodies of humans and extraterrestrials alike, fighting down a growing sense of nausea as he went. Did Benrey do this? It seemed like a stretch, even for him.

Tommy eventually found Gordon, alive and relatively unharmed, and learned that Gordon had picked up three others on his way out of the test chamber. Benrey was unkillable, as was his nature, so that presence didn’t surprise Tommy. Dr. Coomer was always tough, and it stood to reason that he could survive the blast from an interdimensional anomaly. Bubby, well. He wasn’t dead anymore, was all Tommy knew. 

Now, they were trucking through the test facility at a steady clip, picking off creatures as they went. Tommy wasn’t armed - he didn’t need to be - but Gordon was making decent headway with a crowbar and Bubby had… located a revolver somehow. Tommy had questions about Bubby. For now, however, he was hanging in the back of the group, keeping one eye on Benrey, because Benrey was always up to something, and one eye on Gordon, because, well, just look at him.

The elevator crash had shoved him off a cliff he was never climbing back up from. That was a hard thing for Tommy to watch; aside from witnessing the death of three strangers, he also had to see something small and fragile snap inside Gordon, like the breaking of a flower stem. He hadn’t killed those people, not really, but he believed that he did, and that was somehow worse. Tommy didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to tell Gordon that a lot more people would die before this was over.

To make things worse, the company they kept was slowly chipping away at Gordon’s sanity. Bubby was insufferable. Coomer was unhelpful. Benrey was… flirting with him. Indistinguishable from harassment, which Tommy knew from firsthand experience. The new guy needed  _ someone _ in his corner. It may as well be Tommy.

Gordon was at least adjusting relatively well to the supernatural. He had gotten over the idea of aliens invading pretty quickly, and when Bubby had outright told him he was born in a tube in the lab, Gordon took it in stride. That was right before he had clapped a heavy hand on Tommy’s shoulder, sending a shiver all the way through his body. 

Wow, that was nice. Been a long time since Tommy felt something like that. He almost forgot to be offended when Gordon jokingly said that he was five. “We love our little Tommy,” Bubby had commented sarcastically. “We love Tommy,” Gordon had agreed genuinely. 

Tommy didn’t know what to think about that, his brain glitching out in a pleasant sort of way with Gordon’s hand still on his shoulder. Then he let go and they kept moving, leaving Tommy just standing there, pulse on the uptick.

Get it together, man. You have an apocalypse to deal with.

A brief raid of the break room brought back memories of that morning. Was it really just that morning? The past few hours had felt like days. There wasn’t a lot to be found in there except the drinks from the vending machine. Tommy hung back while his colleagues pawed through the drawers and cabinets. 

Gordon glanced at the bulletin board and over to Tommy, flashing a smile of acknowledgement. Tommy returned it with a wordless raise of his eyebrows. So he still had a sense of humor in this nightmare. That was a good sign. 

The eye contact between them lingered for far longer than was appropriate. Take a picture, baby, it’ll last longer, was what Tommy’s brain said. “Grab a soda, it’ll help you see faster,” was what came out of his stupid mouth. Nice one, genius. 

The laugh Gordon barked out seemed to surprise him. It was tight with stress, but his smile was lovely as ever. 

“I don’t know what  _ that _ means,” he chuckled, hefting the crowbar in his hand, “but sure.”

He really didn’t know what the hell Tommy was talking about and he still laughed at the bullshit he blurted when his brain stopped working. Tommy smiled and shook his head. He was definitely keeping this one. 

The vending machine was cracked open like a walnut and they continued on their way.

It became an unspoken game between the two of them. Who could break the other out of reality, startle them into joy at the end of the world. Tommy won points the most often - Gordon wore his emotions on his face and he was already so strung out from stress that the barest attempts at levity set him off laughing. Occasionally, though, Gordon caught Tommy off guard with his wit. His jokes were more orchestrated. Grandiose. Special presents just for Tommy.

One such occasion was after they’d broken into the locker room. After addressing the corpse by the benches, Gordon began rifling through his locker for his passport in a vain attempt to placate Benrey. Tommy watched him carefully as he entered such an enclosed space with the entity. Just in case he tried something. Gordon found his passport, but his attention snagged on a solitary picture frame in the corner.

“That’s my baby,” Gordon informed the team.

He had a baby? Tommy studied the photo with interest. He didn’t strike Tommy as a fatherly person, and the fact that he had a child complicated whether or not he was single. Of course, that wasn’t an automatic disqualifier - 

“I have a son,” Gordon insisted, with emphasis.

Tommy belatedly realized that Gordon was staring straight at him as he pointed at the photo. He blinked. Okay, man. He got the hint. Gordon wasn’t on the market - wait.

That was a stock photo. He could see the watermark stamped across the image. Gordon’s stare was still locked onto Tommy, a barely contained smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

“That’s Joshua,” he said.

Tommy had to duck into the adjacent room to laugh. 

Damn, he was good. Tommy leaned one hand on the wall, holding the other against his ribs in a fit of giggles. Why did Gordon have that in there? Just for kicks? He distantly heard an oblivious compliment Dr. Coomer launched in Gordon’s direction and a caustic insult from Benrey.

“What did you say about my boy?” Gordon demanded in mock outrage. “Did you call him shit?” 

Tommy sagged against the wall, catching his breath. It took him a couple seconds to recover from that one. What a knockout.

\---

It turns out Gordon Freeman’s sense of humor is difficult to nail when one is enduring an extraterrestrial apocalypse. Shambling forms accosted them on all sides, and while the party was able to more or less hold their own, the tension in the air was palpable. Each member of the team was paranoid for their own reasons, making their words sharper, their actions heavier.

Benrey had disappeared shortly after after the explosion in the bathroom, and Tommy could see him flickering on the edges of his vision every once in a while. Creep. He’d turn up eventually, on his own terms. Tommy had learned by now that there was no making the entity do what he didn’t want to do, but his presence nearby still made his skin crawl. 

Dr. Coomer was on edge as he came face to face with his doppelgangers throughout the maze of carnage. Tommy had put together that this man was either a clone or a base for one, and it was becoming increasingly apparent as his speech grew more and more incomprehensible. Gordon thought he was having a stroke once. It was probably more accurate to say that he was having a breakdown on the DNA level.

Gordon and Bubby were the only two who seemed legitimately concerned about the aliens that were steadily pouring into the facility. Bubby was a surprisingly excellent shot with the revolver, and while Gordon wasn’t exactly a deadeye, he could at least swing that crowbar around with a decent amount of wallop. The adrenaline was running hot through all of them as they lay waste to the creatures in the facility. This was dangerous, and everyone was on edge. 

As the situation grew bleaker, Tommy found himself cracking jokes reflexively, just as a nervous tic. He was used to having a pretty good grasp on reality - or, at least, on  _ his _ definition of it - but the Resonance Cascade had dropped him in an inkwell and he could no longer tell which way was up. What parts of the impossible were planned? What parts of it could be stopped?

Most of his jokes were ignored by his nervous teammates. Understandable. When he dramatically bemoaned the loss of his tic tac drawer and the crucial calories they contained, he wasn’t even sure if he was being serious or not. They had seen so many people die in such a short amount of time. Watching the group’s brittle humanity crumbling apart at the loss of life was not making it any easier.

When the four of them witnessed a stranger plummet from a precarious catwalk to the void below, Gordon stood there, staring at the place he had disappeared from, for quite a long time. Tommy hung back as he always did, leaning his shoulder on the doorway. This poor mortal with a too-big heart. He was not going to be the same if he made it out of this ordeal alive.

“How deep is that hole?” he finally asked, either to find a sliver of hope that the man was still alive or some comfort that he had died quickly. “How deep is that hole?”

Beside him, Bubby folded his arms and blew out a breath. “Uh, I believe this hole has to be about five hundred feet deep,” he guessed.

Gordon’s face went worryingly blank as he processed this. Tommy watched him, feeling a twinge of sympathy tug at his stomach. There was no solace to be found in the catastrophe tearing through the facility, especially when the facility itself was grown from such rotten roots. Things were about to get far worse before they got better.

“We’re trying to dig to the center of the earth,” he told him wryly.

Gordon’s responding laugh was heartbreakingly sour.

They moved on, and Tommy was about to follow the group when Benrey materialized beside him. He only came up to Tommy’s shoulder where he stood next to him, but he still managed to pull off an intimidating leer. 

“Dude, quit hitting on the new guy,” he said thinly. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Tommy paused. Slanted Benrey a stare that could cut glass. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he muttered.

“I’m not hitting on him,” the entity shot back. “I can’t stand him.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. Sure.

“It’s not  _ my _ fault he showed me his dick,” Benrey went on, crossing his arms. His voice was like a razor, and it set Tommy’s teeth on edge.

He drew in a long, slow breath through his nose. “Why,” he asked, “would you tell me that.”

Benrey grinned, sharklike, and shrugged innocently. “Just something to think about.”

He blinked out of existence, leaving Tommy there alone to frown at nothing. He scoffed. Asshole. No tact whatsoever. 

The fact that the entity had his eye on Gordon, too, made him uneasy. Not enough that Tommy felt the need to interfere - anyone with half a brain cell would know not to trust Benrey and Tommy was certain that Gordon had at least two. But he could see him slowly chipping away at the new guy’s sanity, piece by teeth-grinding piece.

The being had no appreciation for subtlety; winking in and out of this plane, killing indiscriminately, parading around like an interdimensional peacock. Tommy watched it all with a growing sense of disdain. That kind of power was not something to be fucked around with, and that was all Benrey ever did.

Tommy and Benrey’s relationship was like a careful dance in a room full of knives, each step a decision that could help or hurt both of them. They shared a supernatural origin, but their similarities ended there. Tommy didn’t trust him one iota, and Benrey vacillated rapidly between being obsessed with Tommy and outright despising him. 

He had to remind himself that while the entity rarely outright lied, his words were often so ridiculously, insufferably cryptic that he might as well have been dishonest. The piece of information he had just dropped could mean anything, deposited in such a way to needle against Tommy’s skin like sandpaper. This was how Benrey worked, feeding people bullshit just to get them riled. Tommy didn’t need to retaliate. Unlike Benrey, he was raised with some fucking manners. 

He had no power over him as long as he didn’t let it get to him.

He wasn’t going to let it get to him.

Oh, who was he kidding? It got to him. Tommy made a mental note to let an industrial door slide shut on Benrey the next chance he got. What was it going to do, kill him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this won't turn into Benrey/Tommy or Benrey/Gordon in any way I just love the idea of Tommy and Benrey being passive aggressive workplace rivals, but like, in the interdimensional sense. It has a lot of [anime voice] "tch. pathetic." potential and I'm having fun exploring it. 
> 
> As per usual I was given the vaguest implications of Tommy having powers and have decided to take matters into my own hands. There are no rules and I'm making it up as I go along. Don't worry about it.
> 
> Thenk u for all the lovely comments they have been warming my heart like the most delicious soup ily


	3. Chapter 3

Gordon had become increasingly protective of Tommy as the day went on, which would be sweet if it wasn’t ridiculously unnecessary.

The team reached an area equipped with automated defenses, steel paneled rooms studded with turrets that fired off rounds indiscriminately. Apparently Black Mesa’s heat seeking technology wasn’t refined enough to differentiate between friend and foe. Or maybe no living soul was allowed in this part of the facility regardless of planar origin. 

Either way, they were all getting shot at. 

They took cover, shielding themselves from the popcorn of gunfire. Tommy tucked himself behind a wooden crate, content to wait it out, when he heard hollering from the other side of the room.

“Tommy!” It was Gordon, lying flat on his belly around a corner. He was panting, curly hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, adrenaline making his dark eyes wild. “Get out of the open!”

Tommy tried his best to make the short sprint across the room not look like a stroll. Once he was out of firing range, he stood against the wall and tucked his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. Gordon was still prone, popping the occasional stray alien with the pistol in his hand. He passed Tommy an incredulous look, and Tommy was only able to stare back mildly.

It wasn’t that Tommy was  _ hiding _ the fact that bullets had no effect on him, exactly. He just figured Gordon was already dealing with enough already without Tommy adding, “hey, by the way, my dad is a god and I inherited his power,” on top of it. Didn’t want to break the guy’s brain any more than it already was today. 

Lamely, he tried lightening the mood. “It’s okay, the turrets can’t hurt you,” Tommy said, gunfire crackling around them. “It's part of our… turret-ing test.”

Nailed it. Puns were good sometimes, right? Gordon had been chuckling at his silly rhymes a few minutes earlier. Maybe a pun would land.

“I don’t know what you just said to me!” Gordon shouted over the noise, twisting to fire off a round at an advancing creature. 

Tommy sighed and casually jammed the turret with a subtle wave of his hand. This afternoon was way too loud. He needed a break. Five minutes of silence. Please. The gunshots died.

When the coast was clear, Gordon clambered to his feet and the rest of the group emerged from their respective positions of shelter. They gathered in the room together, casting wary glances at the automatic rifle bolted to the wall. 

Gordon flicked a questioning look to Bubby, who had so far shown the most initiative in their endeavors aside from Gordon himself. “Did you deactivate it?” he asked.

The other scientist just shrugged and made a noncommittal sound before excusing himself to investigate the surrounding area with Dr. Coomer. Tommy, seeing the concern on Gordon’s face, tried once again to reassure him that they were safe. Give him a little peace of mind while still keeping it vague. He wanted to iron that troubled wrinkle out of his forehead.

“It can’t hurt you if you’re smart,” Tommy told him, the words falling out of his mouth without a real plan. “That’s… why we’re all scientists…”

Oh, no.  _ Too _ vague. Gordon, apparently misinterpreting his nonchalance for ignorance, turned his anxious stare on Tommy. And then he was raising a gloved hand toward Tommy’s face. And then, oh god, he was cupping Tommy’s cheek, locking eyes with him intently. 

“Buddy, buddy, buddy, buddy,” Gordon told him. “That’s not how that works. That’s not how that works.”

Tommy’s pulse was running a marathon under his skin. He couldn’t look away. Gordon’s eyelashes were… so long. He and Gordon both were flecked with blood and alien guts, surrounded on all sides by enemies, and all Tommy could do was stare. Why was he fixated on this, why was he  _ like _ this? He could cruise through a room riddled with crossfire no problem but he froze when the new guy touched him?

Gordon dropped his hand to Tommy’s shoulder, gripping him firmly, still pinning him in place with those dark, fervent eyes. “I need you to preserve yourself,” he went on seriously. “I need you to keep yourself safe, so that you don’t-”

Tommy frantically interrupted Gordon before any more words could come marching out to shock his brain. “This is the Turing test room,” he blurted, reiterating his earlier pun. “The  _ turret _ ing test room.”

The record in Gordon’s head skipped for a second before he caught the joke and began snickering. He released Tommy to cover his hand with his mouth as he shook his head. Tommy relaxed an infinitesimal amount. Crisis averted.

Bubby, who had returned and was hovering nearby, sent Tommy a cool look before turning his attention to Gordon. “I found a present for you,” he said, beckoning him toward an adjacent room.

Gordon’s head snapped up. “The gun?”

He followed the old man out of the sector with the turret, and Tommy, red-faced, had to take a second alone to calm his racing heart. That was… a lot. It made sense; Gordon himself was a lot. But Tommy hadn’t expected to be so utterly blindsided by the exchange. He drew in a deep breath, let it out slow. 

Gordon Freeman was a passionate, caring guy who would have insisted any idiot running through a sheet of bullets should keep themself safe. And he was so wired on stress, maybe he would have clutched at anyone’s face to drive his point home. Tommy had a feeling that wasn’t the case, though, and it scared him as much as it thrilled him. 

He composed himself and rejoined the group. Benrey, lounging unhelpfully on a crate in the corner, caught his eye when he entered the room. He sneered and made a jerking off motion. Classy. 

\---

Things got easier for Tommy once they gave him a Glock.

He hadn’t used one of these in a while, but he remembered the rudimentary training they gave him when he took his position in the Anomalous Materials department. Bullets paled in comparison to spontaneous combustion in terms of alien elimination, but they got the job done. Pulling the trigger and feeling the kick in his hand was incredibly satisfying. 

It also felt good to charge ahead at the front of the group, firing off rounds at blinding speeds. Punching bullets through the monsters that lurched toward them was an excellent way to burn off some of the pent up anxiety he had been collecting. He watched sickly green gore spatter the wall as he picked off another one. Cheaper than therapy, he thought wryly. They were… all going to need therapy after this.

Tommy had to admit the admiration his marksmanship drew from Gordon was equal parts gratifying and hilarious. He might as well have been playing hopscotch in the middle of an air raid. Tommy could snap his fingers and immolate these beings instantly if he really wanted to. Freeze the blood solid in their veins. But he wasn’t a showoff, so he accepted the man’s compliments by chalking it up to instinct, keeping his head down and playing the mortal game with a mortal weapon. 

At one point, he peeled off from the group to neutralize one of the lumbering beasts they were being accosted by, leaving his colleagues high up on a catwalk and out of danger. It should have been an easy shot for Tommy, but Gordon’s protective streak was apparently a mile long, and he scrambled down to his level to attack the creature with the crowbar. Tommy watched him, bemused, as he took out the alien on his behalf. So brave. So utterly pointless.

He flicked his wrist and winked Gordon out of there, carefully depositing him back up on the catwalk. Faintly, he heard Bubby utter a bewildered, “how did you do that?” to an equally puzzled Gordon and let out a private chuckle to himself.

They eventually reached a cafe of sorts, and after they cleared the room of monsters, Tommy set to brewing up drinks from the machine on the wall. Coffee was good. He always felt he operated at a little slower pace than the steady sprint of time, and caffeine tended to catch him up with everyone else. The other scientists, thoroughly wiped, settled down on the floor to catch their breaths and slow their racing hearts. 

Sitting in a circle, mugs in hand, they talked. Grounded themselves in some normalcy. Got to know each other a bit. Benrey was nowhere to be seen, off somewhere doing whatever it was that shithead entities did, which made the flow of conversation infinitely smoother. Tommy sipped the house blend, listening to Gordon as he led the discussion, prompting the team with questions about their homes, their families.

His mouth really never stopped, did it? Gordon had been pelleting them with words ceaselessly almost the entire day; one would think he’d need a break eventually. It was nice that he was curious about his colleagues, though. The fact that the group consisted of a lab experiment, a clone, and a demigod made conversation a little tricky, but Gordon’s genuine interest and concern for each of their lives was lovely. 

Tommy learned that Bubby did, in fact, possess a sense of humor, catching Gordon with a zinger about friendship that was as touching as it was mean. Dr. Coomer had his own jokes, too, and Tommy just about snorted into his coffee when he declared, “I had a wife, but they took her in the divorce.” These guys weren’t bad, Tommy decided. Just a little unhinged.

And then Gordon’s attention was on him. “How ‘bout you, Tommy? Where are you from?”

He was from here, of course. Well, technically, he was from all over. His father had made sure Tommy took in a wide range of experiences as he grew up, but he always returned to Black Mesa like a homing pigeon in the end. While the facility had its flaws, the New Mexico wilderness that surrounded it was beautiful. Tommy loved the desert, and he liked to think the desert loved him back.

How did Tommy put something like that into words? How did he explain to Gordon that his only family was an ageless, supernatural being with the ability to bend time and space to his will, and a golden retriever? Coffee steamed in his face as his brain disconnected from his mouth.

“I don’t know, I’m an orphan,” he answered, haltingly. Then, because that was a fucking depressing lie, he cheerfully added, “but I have a dog!”

Gordon, caught off guard, let out a startled laugh. God, those dimples were just stunning. “What’s your dog’s name?” he asked.

“Sunkist,” Tommy answered fondly.

He had no reservations about sharing his dog with the man sitting across from him. He loved Sunkist, and he imagined Sunkist would like Gordon if they ever met. He could already picture the guy’s cheerful smile as he patted the retriever’s head. Good dog. Best friend. 

“You named your dog after a soda?” Gordon asked, still grinning outright. “You really like soda, huh, bud?”

He briefly squeezed a hand on Tommy’s knee, and his stomach did a funny swoop like it was on the end of a yo-yo. Tommy blankly held Gordon’s expectant stare for a while and then realized he hadn’t answered.

“Yeah,” was all he could come up with in response.

He sure did like soda. Helped him see faster. That was a thing he had said today. Tommy had said a lot of things today. He was usually a man of few words, but Gordon got him talking, pulled the dialogue right out of him, whether it made sense or not.

And hell, he _ wanted  _ to keep talking, which was a new feeling for Tommy. He wanted to keep sitting here on this grimy tiled floor and drink coffee and shoot the breeze with this little ragtag team all afternoon. When it was time to move on, he was reluctant to get going.

The apocalypse, however, waits for no one. So he went.

\---

Further along in their road trip through hell, Tommy’s father made an appearance. His haunting visage materialized down a hallway, the air shimmering and warping around him like a desert mirage. Nobody really noticed he was there, but Tommy saw him. He always did.

It was later than he expected; Tommy had hoped his father would have found him hours ago to fill him in on what was happening, but that, apparently, was not his plan. His swirling eyes met Tommy’s from where he stood a few yards away. The crimson security lights made him look ghoulish. He didn’t say anything. 

Tommy wordlessly jerked his thumb toward the team of scientists he had been tagging along with. Raised an eyebrow.  _ These guys have anything to do with it? _ his motions asked.

His father tipped his chin back and passed a glance to the distracted team, then back to Tommy. He gave a solitary nod.

Tommy pointed to himself.  _ And me? _

He smiled like a bobcat on a moonless night.  _ You are exactly where you need to be. _

Tommy sighed. His dad was playing chess again. Odds were he knew far more about the Resonance Cascade than he let on, and was choosing to leave Tommy in the dark to further whatever ends he had in mind. Tommy didn’t exactly resent him for it - possessing cosmic knowledge would probably make anyone’s parenting style a little strange - but he’d appreciate at least a  _ hint _ about what was happening.

Gordon suddenly pulled up beside him, shining his flashlight directly into his father’s face. The man just eyed him back silently, unaffected by the harsh beam of light. Tommy watched Gordon’s gaze focus disbelievingly on the mirage in front of him.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“What?” Bubby called distantly. He was working on an exit door further down the hall, trying in vain to bust it open while Coomer hooked his fists at the deadbolt.

“The guy in the suit,” Gordon clarified. He gave a concerned look to Tommy. “You see that, right?”

Still clutching his flashlight, he was glancing back and forth between Tommy and his father, grasping at a shred of assurance that he wasn’t completely losing it. Tommy looked back at him pityingly. He wanted desperately to explain things to Gordon, to tell him that there was a plan, to offer his hand in an act of trust.

But his father was staring at both of them wolfishly, and he bit down on his words. Later, perhaps. When Tommy himself felt he had a firm enough grasp on the situation to relay it to Gordon accurately.

Tommy shook his head. It felt like he was slapping Gordon across the face.

Bubby, impatient, scoffed, “What are you talking about? Open the door.”

Gordon ripped his attention away from the shimmering man in front of him. “It’s locked, bro,” he called, and he left Tommy’s side to do damage control. “You can’t - stop. Don’t  _ shoot _ it open.”

The fact that Tommy’s father had revealed himself willingly to Gordon indicated that he was a person of interest to him. Knowing how he operated, Tommy deduced that this could either be very good or very, very bad. He gave the man a tight-lipped smile.  _ Good to see you, dad. _

His father winked.  _ Keep him safe. _

_ I was already doing that _ , Tommy wanted to argue, but his father was warping out of the room, leaving him to handle the consequences of a dimensional rift on his own. Tommy rubbed his temples with his fingertips. Back to the chessboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, the tender face-holding scene that made me start shipping this. I was shocked to discover that frenrey was the main ship of the fandom when Tommy was literally Right There, so hopefully by pointing this out I can lead others to the light.
> 
> G-man will see a group of stressed out scientists, say "is anyone gonna manipulate that," and not wait for an answer.
> 
> I am so glad everyone has been enjoying this so far. Your comments give me strength and I eat them for power and energy.


	4. Chapter 4

Later that day, Tommy did two things to make Gordon’s life a little easier.

Item one: he did end up trapping Benrey under a fire door. It was an accident. Totally. Tommy knew it wasn’t a permanent fix, but it would at least get the entity out of their hair for a few hours while he regenerated a body. In the meantime, they could make their way through the facility much quicker.

Item two: he stopped calling Gordon by his first name.

Dr. Coomer had been firing off a cheerful, “Hello, Gordon!” every few minutes and it was driving the new guy nuts. He was sick to death of his own name. Tommy realized he had subconsciously discarded the word ‘Gordon’ to spare his sanity and now found himself casting around for a replacement.

‘Freeman’ felt blasé. Lazy. Like something Benrey would call him, if he ever bothered to call anyone anything. ‘Dr. Freeman’ made Tommy feel the same way ‘Dr. Coolatta’ did. It was ostentatious. Distinguished. Not at all a fit for Gordon - Tommy had a feeling he knew how to misbehave.

...Mister? Mr. Freeman? That made him sound like a high school history teacher. It was… hilarious, honestly. He couldn’t picture this maniac with a crowbar lecturing at the front of a classroom if he tried. And Gordon didn’t strike Tommy as someone pretentious enough to correct him on the title. He was sharp enough to appreciate the joke. Provided he wasn’t too stressed out to catch it. 

The first time he called him that, Gordon accepted it without comment, did a double take, and gave Tommy a questioning, brows-raised look.  _ Mister? _ He mouthed. But, as predicted, he didn’t correct him. Tommy could not keep the shit-eating grin off his face. The name stuck.

The military showed up, with their artillery and their uniforms and their brief stint of hope, but they were just as bloodthirsty as the aliens, gunning the researchers in Black Mesa down like prey animals. Were these three men he ran with the only people Tommy could trust? No, not even that, the only people who didn’t outright want him dead? It sure was starting to seem like that. He steeled his nerves for further violence as they pushed on.

Reaching the surface was a short-lived victory. Tommy caught a fleeting glimpse of the red canyon walls, the searing blue sky, before government ordered ammunition rained down on them and forced them below ground again like rats. His heart ached. He wanted to taste the sun on his face. Feel the desert sand radiating its latent heat. Following his team into the cold metal belly of Black Mesa once more was probably the hardest thing he’d done that day. 

Benrey didn’t stay gone for long, materializing in the form of a skeleton while his flesh was piecing itself together particle by particle in another dimension. He was practically haunting the group, revealing himself only to Gordon and slowly driving him insane. Tommy could see him, as well, but he ignored the entity. If he was this desperate for attention, he would have to try a little harder to gain any from him.

He later got the attention he craved via dozens of slugs of lead. Bubby and Coomer quickly took out the skeleton as soon as it visibly approached them, and Gordon had promptly passed out seconds later. Tommy rested his hands on his waist, surveying the mess and shaking his head. They were too close to the military threat right now to justify resting here. 

God, he was bone tired, though. They had been running hard for at least a day now. It was honestly a miracle Gordon hadn’t lost consciousness sooner. He drew in a deep breath, casting a cursory look at his remaining companions.

“Do you think we can get him out of here?” he asked. 

Bubby wiped a spatter of blood from his jaw and shrugged. “I’m not carrying him,” he grumbled. 

“We could roll him like a barrel,” Dr. Coomer suggested blithely. 

As funny as that would be, it was probably best not to give Gordon any more blunt force trauma than he had already taken today. Falling down a staircase because your coworkers pushed you would be a pretty idiotic way to die, especially after everything Gordon had survived already. Tommy removed his lab coat and passed it off to Bubby, who passed it off to Coomer.

After he neatly rolled up his sleeves, picking up Gordon wasn’t hard for Tommy to do. It was just a matter of nudging the rules of weight and mass a little to his advantage. Tommy never broke reality; he just leaned on it occasionally until it gave enough ground for him to do what he wanted. Gordon’s limp head lolled against his chest as he hefted him in his arms. He did his best not to pay attention to that.

“Fine lifting, Tommy!” Dr. Coomer exclaimed.

Tommy nodded in thanks, grateful that the old boxer didn’t get hung up on the details of the implausible. Bubby, however, had a question on his face, studying Tommy carefully as he stood there carrying a man who had fifty pounds on him, at least. But he didn’t ask, so Tommy didn’t answer. 

He cast one last look at the pile of Benrey bones on the floor. He’d catch up later. 

“Let’s go,” he said.

They pressed on wearily in search of a sheltered place. Tommy carried Gordon like the precious cargo he was, fully appreciating that the other man wasn’t conscious for this. Otherwise he’d surely hear how loudly his heart was pounding against his ribs.

_ I’ve got you, _ Tommy thought.  _ You’re safe. _

\---

A new sense of normalcy elbowed into their lives. The following day, the team worked its way in a wide arc through an unexplored section of Black Mesa, dodging aliens and soldiers alike as they went. It had only taken 24 hours for the reality of fighting for their lives to settle in, and while they were all still pretty haggard from the previous day’s events, everyone seemed to be handling themselves a little better after a night’s rest and some time to process. 

Gordon had improved more than anyone. After dealing with the shock of the Resonance Cascade and watching his world turn on its ear, he had concluded that the only way out was through, and he would be the one to get them there. His words were still a rapid-fire tangle of his unfiltered thoughts, but Tommy could see his decisions growing more critical, his actions more confident as they worked their way toward freedom. 

Good thing, too. Tommy was beginning to sense a strangeness in the air the deeper they explored Black Mesa. A warping of the space around them, a stretching of the threads of time. Someone, somewhere, had grabbed a towline and yanked, and Tommy could sense it yanking him, too. It felt…bad. It felt  _ wrong _ .

He tried to explain as much to the team, now that their soundness of mind was relatively more stable than it was yesterday. But it was hard to verbalize the concept of reality shifting like a tectonic plate to people whose top priorities were not getting eaten or shot. “I think time might be expanding and contracting,” was what Tommy said. “I think you might be having a caffeine overdose,” was Gordon’s troubled reply.

Alright. If nobody wanted to believe him, Tommy wasn’t going to waste his energy making them. He trailed behind the group, as was his habit, and quietly did his best to keep his companions alive. 

On the upside, with Gordon feeling more normal, Tommy’s jokes were starting to land again. As they uncovered more and more horrifying secrets hidden in the intestines of Black Mesa, Tommy could feel his own sarcasm reaching astronomical levels just to cope.

What the hell were they _ doing _ down here? Tommy had been aware of the planar research the facility was conducting, but seriously? A freezer full of human flesh? Ethically questionable cybernetic experiments? Vats of toxic waste, just out there in the open? The absurdity of it all would almost strike him as funny if their circumstances weren’t so dire.

Bubby met it all with grim acceptance and Dr. Coomer seemed wholly oblivious. Only Gordon was reeling with the same amount of consternation that Tommy was experiencing, exchanging glances with him that asked,  _ What the fuck? What the actual fuck? _

Dr. Coomer, who was rapidly gaining Tommy’s respect by going toe to toe with their enemies boxing style, kept worrying about his ‘green goop’ allergy anytime they were near the nuclear waste. Tommy honestly wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, and he fought down a snicker whenever it was mentioned. In a way, everyone was allergic to nuclear waste. If you really thought about it.

Gordon eventually raised a concern about their exposure to radiation. Little late there, bud, Tommy wanted to say, but Bubby beat him to the punch with an acidic, “It’s just brain cancer, you can live with that.”

“I don’t thi - hm,” Gordon said.

“I don’t think you can live with that,” Coomer agreed.

Gordon paused, then reconsidered. “I mean, you guys have shown me you - your superhuman potential, so maybe you can,” he said. “Maybe you can. I’m willing to believe… quite about anything right now, so.”

Tommy rolled his eyes as he hopped easily up to the pipeline they had been following. Anything except time being altered, apparently. He tried not to hold it against him. Baby steps. Tommy gazed down at Gordon and jerked his chin for him to follow.

“The cybernetics department was very well funded, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer informed him brightly as he clambered up the pipe.

_ Well funded? _ Tommy couldn’t keep the snark out of his voice. “Yeah,” he agreed dryly, “they even gave us these flashlights.”

Gordon, after clearing a gap, turned to give Tommy a puzzled look.

He smirked and indicated his perfectly ordinary flashlight. “They’re Weather Channel brand, you just kinda turn a crank and they go.”

Gordon’s laugh, genuine and sweet, rang through the chamber, and Tommy was surprised at the relief that washed over him when he heard it. If Gordon was feeling well enough to take a joke, they were on the right track. They were doing okay. He smiled and kept moving forward, hope fluttering in his chest. 

The nuclear reactor that was actively leaking waste was so mind-numbingly ridiculous, so pointlessly and blatantly dangerous, that Tommy barked out a short “ha!” of a laugh when he rounded the corner. The sheer amount of radiation exposure this facility possessed was unheard of. It was a miracle they didn’t all have massive brain damage. Okay, well. Maybe that was up for debate.

“This place is huge,” Gordon remarked.

“Yup!” Tommy proclaimed, eyeing the acid green sludge with a mystified grin. “And it’s all built  _ to code _ . The U.S. lets us do this. This is  _ all _ to regulation.” He raised his arm in a dramatic, sweeping gesture, unable to contain his mirth. “Everything.”

Gordon began chuckling. “I mean, I’m not too worried about the government right now,” he reasoned, before his attention was stolen away by the animals that were swimming in the murk. He popped a few rounds off with his handgun, marveling at the beasts’ ability to survive in such a toxic environment.

Tommy was too pleased with himself to even bother acting like they were a threat. “Those creatures aren’t from the - from the incident,” he continued. “Those were here. That’s also to regulation. You’re allowed… five percent.”

He was barely keeping his tone even and Gordon was doing an amused little exhale through his nose as he tried to hold in his laughter.

“We’ve been breeding them for twenty years to eat radioactive waste,” Dr. Coomer added, eyes twinkling with mischief as he played along.

Tommy had never wanted to high five another person so badly in his life.

Dr. Coomer didn’t even manage to ruin the mood by dying, twice, in rapid succession. He miraculously reappeared only seconds later, when they had all regrouped on a catwalk about three stories above the pit of waste. Tommy arched a quizzical eyebrow at the old man. Coomer simply shrugged. Huh. He sure wasn’t kidding about the cybernetics department being well funded.

Gordon, who was already questioning his own sanity, didn’t even ask about it. Benrey was back, of course. Hovering around the group like the disembodied fuck he was. Tommy let his gaze slide away from him like water anytime he was in his line of sight, but Gordon couldn’t shake the spectre from his mind as it floated only paces behind them. He had been doing a well enough job of pretending the entity wasn’t there until Benrey fired a nine millimeter round at him.

“Okay,” Gordon declared, finally snapping. “There is something fucked up going on.” He cast a nervous eye in the skeleton’s direction.

Bubby and Coomer looked perplexed, while Tommy just folded his arms. He was ignoring Benrey for everyone’s sake - the more attention he got the more powerful he became - but a small part of him was just being petty. Oh, Gordon wanted everyone to believe something unlikely was happening? But nobody took his word for it? Wonder what that felt like. 

Gordon kept talking as he pointed at Benrey. “There is an invisible assailant. I want you guys to believe me - I  _ need _ you guys to believe me.” His tone took on a pleading edge, and it was too much for Tommy to leave him hanging anymore. “There’s - okay - th-”

“I mean, aside from the extra creatures,” Tommy interrupted him, “I’m just seeing normal nuclear power plant stuff, Mr. Freeman. You’re starting to concern me.”

Gordon’s nervous words stuttered into a chuckle. While he turned aside to contain himself, Tommy sliced a chilly stare toward the simpering skull a few yards away.  _ Shoot at him again and see what happens. _

Benrey’s returning gaze was icy. But he hung back.

The group assured Gordon that he was not, in fact, losing his mind (“Could just be the radiation,” Bubby offered), and kept going until they reached a door with a label so weathered it was almost unreadable. Gordon, with newfound confidence, gave Tommy a roguish grin as soon as he saw it. 

“What does this say?” He asked, even teeth flashing prettily. “This is another one of those fucked up things like the break room. I can't read this.”

Tommy let out a quiet, surprised breath. The fact that Gordon was referencing the moment they met at a time like this made him feel amused and touched in equal measure. Heat rose from his collarbones to his cheeks as he returned his smile. Wait, he had asked him a question, hadn’t he? He squinted at the door and realized he could actually decipher it.

“This says-”

“Prolapse?” Gordon guessed cheekily, and Tommy almost choked on his own laughter.

“Pro Lab Engine Testing,” he managed to gasp out, right before the door opened and a ghoulish creature lunged at them.

Dr. Coomer was on the thing in a blink, knocking it out with a heavy-knuckled blow to the cranium before it could even touch anyone. They all gave the old scientist an impressed look before stepping around the corpse and through the entrance.

“I’ve never been in here,” Tommy commented as he ducked under the doorway. “They only let me into the Scrub Lab.”

Gordon laughed like a bell tower. It rang straight through his heart. 

Tommy was never one for drugs, but Gordon Freeman’s sunshine smile made him understand why some people were. Every time he saw it he wanted more, and hearing Gordon’s laughter was quickly becoming addicting.

Awfully inconvenient of Armageddon to happen right when he was getting to know the guy. He should be asking him for his number, not checking to see how many bullets he’d taken. Well, Tommy thought with resolve, all the more reason to get him out of here alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's "this is all regulation" bits were killer. He's so fucking funny. If people don't appreciate him dryly pointing out that the open cisterns of nuclear waste are OSHA approved, well, that's their loss. 
> 
> If you've read any of my other fics youve probably noticed a recurring theme of *tommy picks up gordon* *tommy picks up gordon* *tommy picks up gordon* *tommy p
> 
> As always thank you for the lovely comments, I read and appreciate every single one and they fuel me to commit more fanfic crimes <3


	5. Chapter 5

The monster in the launch bay was a bit of an issue. Could have used a heads up on that one, dad. Tommy watched, mouth partially open in mild shock, as a long, clawed arm busted through the window and plucked an employee out of the control room like they were a daisy. 

“Do you need any help?” Bubby called, most unhelpfully.

Tommy was at least a little glad that he lived in a world that was still able to surprise him, even after everything he’d seen. He just wished he could be surprised in a more pleasant way. This gigantic, reaching creature with blades for arms was an unexpected inconvenience to say the least.

“I read through all seven thousand, two hundred and seventy one pages of the nuclear guidelines document and that’s not in there,” Tommy remarked sarcastically.

Gordon, stretched with fear like a rubber band, still found it in himself to let out an astonished laugh. “That’s not in any book written by a human.”

They dove into the guts of the rocket control facility in search of power. It was an absurdly long trek for something so crucial, made longer by the stabbing claws reaching down periodically to impale them. Gordon and the others were actually handling themselves pretty well considering how immense the danger was, leaving Tommy to focus on more important things, like corralling Benrey. 

Tommy wasn’t sure how a skeleton managed to look so smug, but it did. The entity floated in and out of perception, distracting Gordon as much as possible while staying an acceptable distance away. Tommy kept a threatening eye on him as best as he could while being covert about it. At one point, however, the specter got a little too close for comfort while Tommy was mid-conversation with Gordon, and he pointed his firearm directly at him. 

“Oh! Yes, you’re very on the uh,” his attention fell from the subject as he glared daggers at Benrey. “…up…swing, Mr. Freeman.”

The entity was hovering directly behind Gordon’s shoulder, grinning cheekily. Well, cheeklessly, if Tommy was being literal. His pistol was trained right between its eye sockets.

Gordon noticed. “Can you please not point your gun at me when you’re complimenting me?” he asked nervously.

Tommy didn’t answer. There was little reassurance one could offer a mortal staring down the barrel of a 45, even if it was pointed slightly to the right of his ear. What would he even say to him? It’s impossible for me to miss, Mr. Freeman? I could stop any bullet from hitting you if I wanted, Mr. Freeman? He kept his aim steady. Benrey didn’t move.

Next to him, Bubby gave Tommy an interested look. “Tommy, are you okay?” he asked.

The question surprised him. That was probably the first time Bubby had expressed any concern for him since he’d met him. He blinked and searched for any clarifying words he could offer them.

“I’m… not pointing it at your head, Mr. Freeman.”

Gordon’s laugh was a couple pitches higher than Tommy had come to expect. He was scared. Tommy was scaring him. And Benrey knew it.

“That’s right,” Gordon said, shaky sarcasm bleeding into his own words. “You’re pointing it about _two inches away_ from my head.”

“Now, Tommy,” Dr. Coomer chirped in alarm. “It’s important to practice good trigger discipline."

Tommy was aware. Don’t point at anything you don’t intend to shoot. Don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you plan on pulling it. He’d done the training. He knew the rules. He also could curve bullets in midair by folding space like a sheet of paper, but that was neither here nor there. 

Gordon was still talking to him like he was a spooked animal. “An important thing to understand about gun safety, Tommy, is that when you squeeze the trigger, you’re applying pressure to it-”

Benrey reached for Gordon with a skeletal hand. Tommy took the shot.

It rang through the buckled metal hallway, sending their ears whining from the aftershock. Gordon flinched and stared at Tommy, stunned. Benrey ducked out of the way, rattling to himself in what Tommy suspected was grim laughter. Fuck this guy. Didn’t he have anyone else to hang around with?

Tommy dropped his aim and flicked an apologetic glance at Gordon. He didn’t explain himself. How could he?

The other man held Tommy’s gaze, examining him as if he were a particularly tormenting puzzle.“Y’know?” he said finally, waving a dismissive hand. “Whatever.” He turned to go.

“I-” Tommy stammered. He couldn't leave things like that. “I’m _always_ squeezing the trigger!” he blurted. Making an ass of himself usually worked. “Should I not be doing that?”

A shrill hyena’s laugh startled out of Gordon. “No!” He cast him a wide-eyed, disbelieving look, as if he wasn’t sure if Tommy was being serious. “No! You’re supposed to take your finger _off_ the trigger, kid.”

Next to Tommy, Dr. Coomer raised his own firearm in Gordon’s direction. A threat? An act of solidarity? “We need to get a move on,” he told them matter-of-factly.

Tommy and Gordon exchanged a glance. They got a move on.

Benrey was jangling with invisible mirth in Tommy’s ear as they went. He grit his teeth and ignored him.

\---

Dr. Coomer, in the end, was the one who worked the hardest to dispel the tension between the group. As the clone grew more comfortable with the company he kept, his personality was beginning to shine through in spectacular ways. Tommy found himself repeatedly shocked and delighted by the scientist’s absurd sense of humor.

It was a balm to their increasing plight as they fought their way through the reactor to turn on the power. When Coomer gleefully declared, “You’re a nasty little sewage boy, aren’t you, Gordon?” Tommy nearly blacked out laughing. It was almost enough to get him to forget about Benrey entirely.

Until, of course, the entity’s body finished manifesting. Benrey appeared on an industrial elevator, arms crossed and looking like a shark out to feed. God, he was still wearing that stupid security officer uniform. Gordon, shocked, marched up to him without hesitation, demanding answers. Tommy just watched him with slitted eyes from a good distance away, weapon in hand.

Beside him, Dr. Coomer was equally wary, eyeing the entity with an instinctual suspicion. Bubby had his arms folded with interest as he watched.

Benrey had barely uttered two sentences when Gordon smashed him in the face with a crowbar. He reeled backward from the blow, hand clapped to his jaw, neck cracked at an unnatural angle. There was a soft groan from the entity as Gordon kept an iron grip on his weapon.

Tommy stared. Whoa.

“Get the fuck back,” Gordon threatened, readying another strike. “I’m not taking your shit anymore, man.”

Benrey shuddered, rolled his neck grotesquely, and snapped it back into place. Silence followed, during which the entity gazed past Gordon to meet eyes with Tommy. He was breathing hard, a stunned expression on his face. Tommy allowed the barest of smirks to touch his mouth. _He’s not an idiot, idiot._

“Did you just hit me?” Benrey finally asked pitifully, returning his attention to Gordon. Tommy fought not to roll his eyes.

“I did!” Gordon exploded. “I did just hit you! I’m _sick_ of you!”

Tommy watched the guy unload his frustration from the past few days onto the reborn anomaly, and he had to admit it was satisfying to watch. Benrey was maddeningly calm throughout the whole exchange, quickly recovering from the initial shock of getting clobbered and resigning to stare at Gordon in a bored sort of way.

“I thought you _died_!” Gordon curbed his rant, throwing a wild-eyed stare back at the group for verification.

Tommy gave a tiny shrug. They had all died, technically. Save for himself, who didn’t make a habit out of dying if he could help it. Recreating a physical form took time and energy that Tommy didn’t always have, and it would be pretty rude of him to just disappear on the team while they were trekking through the hallways of hell. As for Bubby and Coomer, Tommy suspected their regenerative properties hashed out quicker and simpler with their photocopied DNA. And Benrey, well, he just didn’t give a fuck.

The two of them were still arguing, and Gordon let out a derisive laugh. “What do you want me to do?” He demanded of the entity, flinging out a hand animatedly.

Benrey tipped his chin. “You wanna stop moving? Why are you avoiding eye contact?”

“Wh-“ Gordon snorted. “I’m looking at my buddies. What do you want me to do, lay down and die? You want me to stay in Black Mesa while the fuckin-“

“Yeah,” Benrey interrupted, lazily inspecting his nails. “Yep. That’d be great.”

Gordon chuckled darkly. “I’m not about to do that. I’m a strong willed fucking guy, okay?”

Tommy snickered. Strong willed was right. Gordon Freeman was the only person he knew who would not only immediately thrash an eldritch monster on sight, but then follow up the drubbing by full-volume shouting when he refused to die. What a guy. Tommy knew he liked him for a reason.

Benrey cleared his throat. “Well, y’know,” he said loudly. “I’ll just have to follow you, then. Make sure you’re not going to steal anymore carts like you did earlier.”

Gordon’s mouth was agape in outrage. He cast another incredulous look back at the group, desperate for backup. “Are you on his side?” he asked. “Are you on his side about all of this?”

Tommy met his eyes and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. No, he wasn’t. But there was no keeping Benrey from sticking around if he’d got it in his head to do so. The best they could do was tolerate him and watch him closely, doing damage control as they went. Tommy had played the keep-away game with Benrey before. Benrey always won.

Bubby’s stare was hard, his mouth an impatient line. Beside him, Dr. Coomer had drawn his pistol again and was aiming it at the entity. “Gordon, is there an issue?” the boxer asked. “I would like to get moving.”

“We outnumber this guy four to one,” Gordon insisted.

Nobody said anything, trapped behind the walls of their own thoughts. The intercom grated overhead, ordering Gordon Freeman to passport inspection.

“Look, that’s what happens,” Benrey went on with a careless shrug. “You gotta stop acting up.”

Gordon was going to break his own jaw with how hard he was grinding his teeth. But he gave up trying to reason with the entity and beckoned the team on board the elevator.

They clambered inside and the lift shuddered down. Tommy stood near Benrey, watching him carefully as he sulked on the edge of the machine. The entity was still eyeing a seething Gordon, pupils dilated like a cat’s.

“Stop looking at me,” Gordon snapped. “Stop fucking looking at me.”

Before Benrey could open his mouth to reply, Tommy pressed the muzzle of his handgun against his cheekbone. A casual gesture for such a blatant threat. His eyes glittered with a warning.

“Here you go, Benrey,” he said mildly. “Here’s my passport.”

Benrey glared at Tommy and said nothing. Tommy wasn’t paying attention to the entity, instead fixing his gaze on Gordon. He had relaxed an iota with Benrey successfully diverted, and a hint of color touched his cheeks as he stared openly at Tommy. Was he _blushing_? It seemed unlikely.

Tommy gave Gordon a small nod as the elevator quaked around them. There was so much he wished he could tell him, about Benrey, about himself, about his father’s inscrutable machinations. The unbearable weight of knowing and not knowing hung between them. They were lost in this fucking horror pit together, and all Tommy wanted to do was reach out and take Gordon’s hand and claw through the darkness beside him.

The best Tommy could do was point a firearm at a reality altering trickster god and hope Gordon would catch what he meant. I’m with you. I’ve got your back. You can trust me.

You can trust me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others so the Benrey moments are contained. Benrey stans do NOT interact - sometimes a couple of guys need to say “it was really hot when you threatened that guy we both hate with grievous bodily harm” in order to realize how they feel about each other and that’s that. Also if you caught my blatant Shinedown lyric insertion, no you didn't ;)
> 
> I owe this fic and my life to Cosma who lets me bounce fic ideas off her in a neverending ping pong game for geniuses. Thanks homie.
> 
> As always I am grateful for your wonderful comments which I eat during my lunch break like delicious potato chip.


	6. Chapter 6

Tommy was starting to get sick and tired of monsters.

The creature with blades for arms was effectively incinerated by the rocket thrusters in the launch room, taking Bubby out in the process. Tommy had grown to expect a quick reappearance from both of their elderly companions anytime they were wiped out. He wasn’t sure what kind of spatial fuckery had been added to their cocktail of enhancements, but it was definitely coming in handy. Especially once they escaped the clutches of one monster and promptly ran into another monster.

Oh god what the fuck what was that? What  _ was  _ that? 

The whole team wasn’t sure what to do with the lumbering, twelve foot tall beast with lasers for hands. It reverberated the very chamber they stood in as it swept its incinerating beams in a wide, burning arc. The scientists scattered while Benrey slouched out of the way.

“I actually don’t know if you can help. That looks like hell,” Bubby commented once they had all found cover.

Tommy, pressed against the wall next to a frightened Dr. Coomer, eyed the thing in the next room. He cast a line out in his brain for something, anything familiar. Oh, well, there was that one thing.

“I’ve never seen something like that - they don’t - there’s no article about that on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia!” he called.

Coomer parroted him instinctively. “The free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit?”

Across the walkway, Gordon barked out a laugh. The creature swung its attention to the three of them and they bolted.

Benrey actually managed to surprise Tommy by luring the monster into the arcing shock of a defunct generator, effectively frying it. With an ear-shattering screech, it disintegrated, leaving the group to stare at a solitary figure cruising leisurely out of the chamber. Benrey looked like he was on a stroll in the park.

Bubby pumped a fist in the air. “Gordon, we’ve defeated the creature!” he announced, an excited gleam in his eye.

“Thanks to Benrey’s song of death,” Tommy added. He caught the entity’s eye and lifted his chin in acknowledgement. So he could pull his weight and help out if he wanted.  _ That wasn’t so bad, was it? _

Benrey flipped him off and kept walking.

Tommy scoffed. He didn’t know why he bothered.

Dr. Coomer strode into the chamber to investigate a residue that was left behind. Gordon, panting and leaning heavily on the doorway after his most recent near-death experience, cast the scientist a concerned look.

“Don’t drink that!” he called. His voice was like a barbed wire fence, rusted and strained.

Before he could get himself any more worked up, Tommy took Gordon by the arm and pulled him aside to a quiet hallway. He needed to calm down. They both did. Tommy was relatively used to avoiding mortal injury, but getting bisected by an extraterrestrial laser wasn’t usually on his list. Tommy spoke to him slowly and evenly, watching the tension in Gordon’s neck gradually ebb as he caught his breath. 

“When we get out of here,” he told him, mouth quirking with mischief, “I’m writing the Wikipedia article for the thing we just killed.”

Gordon’s laugh was more of a stumbling exhale. “What was it - what was it named?” He asked between breaths. He looked utterly drained, but he still chose to humor Tommy. “Y-You mean, you - I guess we’re the - the fuckin authorities on this. We’re discovering these things.”

Tommy leaned his shoulder against the sheet metal wall, facing Gordon as he thought. “I’ll call it…” What was the dumbest shit he could think of? “The Black Mesa Golem Ape. And I’ll write it down and put it on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.”

The tired laugh Gordon let out felt like a gift just for him. Tommy found himself chuckling softly along. The dim glow of the industrial lighting reflected off of Gordon’s glasses as they held each other’s gaze. The lenses needed a good pass with a cleaning wipe, clouded as they were with blood and grease. Impulsively, Tommy reached up and removed them from his face with careful hands.

Gordon froze. Stopped laughing. Retroactively, Tommy tipped his head in a question.  _ May I? _

After a pause, Gordon nodded. Tommy could feel the weight of the other man’s gaze on him as he passed a hand over each lens, polishing them to perfect clarity with just a thought. It was quiet except for the latent hum of electricity from the lights. 

“So I can’t wait to read that article,” Gordon said to fill the silence. “It’s gonna be great.”

Tommy’s smile pulled wider, but he didn’t say anything. He had hoped a gentle, private display of his power like this wouldn’t spook Gordon, and he was glad it was being received well. Tommy raised the frames to inspect them in the light, even though they were spotless.

He slid them delicately back onto Gordon’s face, his fingertips touching his cheekbones just barely as he withdrew.

“Um, yeah,” Gordon went on. “After this, I think I’m going to sleep for like, five days.” He raised a hand to push his glasses more securely up the bridge of his nose. His eyes were so dark and lovely. Like pools of rich ink. “Maybe get like a… Big Mac or something.”

Tommy could go for a Big Mac. He lifted his eyebrows expectantly, curious as to where Gordon was going with this line of dialogue.

Bubby chose that moment to stick his head around the corner. “What are you doing back here, Gordon?”

Tommy angled his chin to get a good look at the scientist, who wordlessly passed a glance between the two of them. He didn’t ask. Tommy didn’t answer. 

“I’m relaxing after the-” Gordon flicked a look to Tommy. “What did you call it? The Black Mesa Golem Ape? After that incident.”

Tommy listened to Gordon explaining the concept of adrenaline to Bubby while Dr. Coomer caught up to them. This guy really was the only member of their party who was purely human, having to push himself harder than anyone just to stay alive. Tommy couldn’t help but feel a prickle of admiration for Gordon. If Tommy’s heart had been leaping out of his chest every minute for the past day and a half, he wasn’t sure he’d still be able to stand upright.

“When I come out of that,” Gordon finished, “I feel like I’m about to crumble to  _ pieces _ .”

“Oh, dear, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer piped up. “That sounds serious. You may have come down with a case of The Crumbles. I read about it on Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit.”

Tommy had to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. 

Gordon, bewildered, glanced between Tommy and Coomer. “Why are you guys being like - why are you being so verbose about Wikipedia?”

Dr. Coomer offered no clarity, instead choosing to announce, “we’d better get a move on,” and disappear around the corner with Bubby.

Gordon’s questioning gaze hung on Tommy. He just grinned apologetically and shook his head. They followed the other scientists out of the hallway.

Rounding the corner, they found Bubby reclining in a metal folding chair that looked more uncomfortable than it would have been to simply stand there, with Coomer hovering next to him. The scientist’s eyes flashed with an almost feral glint when he saw Tommy and Gordon. Bubby had a pained look on his face, as if he’d been coerced into this.

“While you were out working,” Dr. Coomer informed them brightly, “we took a break on this luxurious chair. A chair is a piece of furniture with a raised surface supported by legs, commonly used to support a single person. Chairs are supported most often by four legs and have a back; however, a chair can have three legs or can have a different shape. Chairs are made-”

Tommy had never broken a bone in his life, but he felt that maybe one of his ribs would fracture from the sheer force of his laughter. He was delighted that his panicked, throwaway line about Wikipedia had evolved into such a tremendous gag. Sure, he’d read every line on that website, and sure, Black Mesa was maybe probably definitely funneling funds from the organization, but the tenacity with which Coomer jumped onto the joke was incredible. 

Did he have that article about chairs programmed into him? Did all the clones come with secret Wikipedia articles? Were they all about chairs or did they each get their own unique knowledge?

Tommy giggled madly while he speculated. Gordon looked confused. Dr. Coomer looked pleased. Benrey looked like he was about to throw up.

\---

They went deeper into the facility, following the vertebra of an extensive railway system. The army paratroopers had somehow found their way down there as well, and it felt like every corner they rounded hid a soldier on the other side. Tommy nudged the team in what he hoped was the right direction, drawing on his memory of the time he scanned the building layout in a manual he’d read a while back. It was questionable intel at best, but it was all they had.

Benrey was being refreshingly cooperative for a change. Okay, cooperative was a stretch, but he at least wasn’t actively hindering their progress. At times he was running with the team, mowing down infantrymen alongside them, other times he would disappear completely. It was during one such time that they encountered a sandbagged barricade, walling off a mounted turret. The barrel was pointed directly at a soldier in a maroon beret, who appeared to be in deep discussion with a man in a security uniform - wait.

“Is that Benrey?” Gordon asked, peering at the two figures on the other side of the tracks. 

It wasn’t Benrey for long. The soldier put a bullet in his skull as soon as the group of scientists announced themselves. 

Gordon, hopping the rails immediately, interrogated the man at gunpoint. It was admittedly not a good look for him, threatening the life of another in such a contentious way, teeth bared and trigger finger taut. The intimidation was forced and unnatural, and Tommy could see by the whites of his eyes that Gordon was nervous. He stepped neatly over Benrey’s latest corpse and backed Gordon up, anyway. He did ask nicely, after all.

The man identified himself as Forzen and, aside from being excessively agitated and jumpy (acceptable - he had four firearms pointed at him), appeared to be an ordinary human. Every word that came out of his mouth was either a clear lie or utter nonsense, and Tommy seesawed between respecting the guy for shooting Benrey point-blank and mistrusting him for associating with Benrey at all.

The soldier then chose that moment, apropos of nothing, to unload three consecutive clips into a nearby body. 

Well, uh. Sure. Okay, dude.

Crossfire drew their attention long enough for the hostage to slip away. Gordon pelted after him, the rest of the team close behind. Tommy dragged his thoughts behind him on a string while he ran. What was this deranged man doing with Benrey? What made him decide to kill the entity? He suspected, somehow, that this particular paratrooper was not here simply on orders.

They found him hiding behind a crate minutes later, perched at the top of a precarious, ten story drop. Coomer and Bubby flanked Gordon and aimed their weapons. Tommy mirrored them passively, examining the soldier. Forzen, was it? He had that wide-jawed, high and tight, mass-produced soldier look, strong and anonymous. It made the fact that he was almost pouting all the more noticeable.

Bubby misfired his AR, startling everyone present. 

Gordon recovered quickly. “We’ve got a couple of loose trigger fingers here,” he warned the soldier. “A lot of loose trigger fingers here.”

Tommy heard Bubby mutter “I think the trigger is loose,” under his breath and barely held in a snicker.

Forzen scowled. “Sounds like you guys don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I tried explaining to them about thirty times,” Gordon sighed. “This one’s a kid.” He tossed a gesture at Tommy.

Ouch. Was that payback for pointing his gun at him earlier today? Tommy pitched an inquiring look at Gordon, but he wasn’t paying attention.

Forzen passed Tommy a leer, eyeing him up and down. “You’re a kid?” he asked. 

“I’m thirty six,” Tommy clarified testily. He didn’t feel weird about pointing a gun at him anymore.

“Oh,” Forzen uttered. “You have a - d’you - you have any - uh, you want a Beyblade?”

Tommy’s mouth opened wordlessly at the sheer audacity of this man. A Beyblade? Forzen was seriously trying to sell him on a child’s toy? He straightened, keeping his aim steady. He was beginning to suspect that him and Benrey’s proximity was no coincidence. 

Actually, y’know what? Fine. He’ll bite. 

“Yeah,” Tommy answered flatly. Gordon’s subsequent laugh was more of a startled choke.

“It’s - it’s downstairs,” the soldier went on. “Let me go get it.”

“No, no, do  _ not _ listen to him,” Gordon said, the seriousness of his warning diluted somewhat by his giggling.

Dr. Coomer rolled a sardonic look between Tommy and Gordon. “I think we should let him get the Beyblade,” he suggested.

“Why do you need a Beyblade?” Gordon asked shrilly.

“Let it rip,” Forzen intoned. His sneer was mocking, now.

Tommy stared at him. He was actually starting to feel angry. Of all the fucking things he had to put up with on this nightmare hike through Black Mesa, infantilizing remarks from a gun-toting maniac was not what he had the energy for. He was about to commit an act of violence. 

When Tommy pleaded, “Mr. Freeman, what should I do?” he was really asking, “Mr. Freeman, can I kill him?”

Gordon caught the dangerous edge in Tommy’s voice and threw him a warning look. “Don’t fall for it, man,” he said. “This is a fucking US military strategy. This is a US military strategy. Listen-”

“He’s infiltrating my mind!” Tommy’s words were dripping with so much sarcasm he suspected he could drown someone in it.

“The US military is getting crafty, Gordon.” Coomer remarked, his stare hard as he kept his gun aimed on the hostage.

“What d’you think, Bubby?” Gordon slanted his attention to the old scientist.

Bubby hadn’t said a word this entire exchange, aiming his weapon pensively. Gears were turning in his head, judging by the expression on his face, but he said nothing.

Gordon glanced back to Tommy. “Tommy,” he said seriously. “Stay strong.”

Fine. Since Gordon asked. He stayed strong as long as he could. Tommy didn’t have to worry about his own self restraint much longer, however, as Forzen went on impishly about the Beyblade. Gordon finally knelt so he was eye level with their hostage, pointing the barrel of his weapon straight at the soldier’s head.

“Listen,” he said. “Give me one piece of information that might get us out of here a little bit faster, and I won't blast you in the skull.”

Forzen, effectively cowed, spat out, “Benrey knows the exit.”

Tommy and Gordon exchanged a glance. 

“Benrey knows the exit?” Gordon echoed, narrowing his eyes at Forzen. “You  _ killed  _ Benrey. That man’s - What do you know about Benrey? How do you even know his name? Why do you know who Benrey is?”

Tommy was staring at the paratrooper very intently now. This was orchestrated. Wherever Benrey was, whatever the entity was doing, this person was in on it. He stood very, very still at the realization.

“Because we’re best friends,” Forzen continued. Then he faltered, correcting himself. “We  _ were _ best friends.”

Gordon peered up at Tommy again. Benrey had friends? 

The loudspeaker, which had been pealing overhead like an omen for the past hour, chimed in. DOCTOR. FREEMAN. GET. OUTSIDE.

“I’m not gonna listen to the fucking intercom!” Gordon hollered at the ceiling hotly, springing to his feet. “I can’t trust  _ anything! _ ”

Tommy did not miss the way Gordon’s voice cracked when he said those last few words. He really thought he was an island in this haunting black sea. Tommy gazed heavily at him. He ached.

“Listen,” Gordon said to the hostage. “We’re going to point guns at you. You’re going to  _ walk  _ to the Beyblade.”

Forzen pulled himself languidly to his feet, eyeing the barrel aimed at his face. He passed a look between the scientists present, hovering with hesitance. Then he strolled to the edge of the vast pit and stepped right into it.

Gordon, stunned, stared after him as his form disappeared into the blackness. He cast a nonplussed look at his companions. “Don’t follow him,” he cautioned, his eyes snagging on Tommy in particular. “Do not f -  _ Tommy. _ ”

Tommy leapt down after the soldier, ignoring Gordon indignantly calling his name.

At the bottom, Forzen stood waiting, staring at him keenly. “Let’s go,” he said.

Yes. Let’s. Tommy flicked his fingers. The soldier disappeared from the plane.

\---

When Tommy materialized at the top of the ten story shaft, he was surprised to see that Gordon looked legitimately worried. 

“You’re back,” he sighed shakily. 

Tommy held his gaze and inclined his head in a reticent nod. Of course he was. He’d always come back. As long as the world was crashing off its axis, Tommy would return to Gordon’s side. This was a matter of trust, and trust wasn’t something to be fucked around with.

Gordon cleared his throat. “Did you get the Beyblade?” he asked, attempting to be cheeky but failing.

“No,” Tommy answered evenly. “He ran off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so much extraneous dialogue in these scenes I just had to cut them for brevity's sake. Every part with Forzen is Fucking Incomprehensible and this interrogation bit was hell to write. Hey Forzen? Is it crack? Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?
> 
> Damn I love working on this fic but FUCK FORZEN and FUCK writing him I'd rather have Benrey at this point. God. I thought we'd make it to the surface by now but this idiot had to go and take up the whole chapter. Get fucked.
> 
> Catch me out here romanticizing gently and carefully handling your lover's expensive pair of prescription glasses just for The Intimacy of it all... I dont wear glasses but this concept haunts me.


	7. Chapter 7

Stepping out of the compound and into the brisk desert night felt like drawing breath for the first time. Tommy closed his eyes and inhaled the distant scent of Russian olive and sagebrush, his pulse already beginning to slow. Their journey was far from over, but this infinitesimal moment of comfort was a welcome repose.

The stars overhead were beautiful. The gunfire, not so much.

Tommy hung back while the others dispatched the two soldiers on guard. His eyes were on the guy in the blue uniform, dangling his legs casually over the rail track a few yards away. That was quick. He hadn’t expected Benrey to reappear for several more hours, much less in such a fully-fleshed form. Tommy lifted an eyebrow in question, but the entity only gave him a coyote’s grin in answer.

“Oh, you guys made it out,” he announced in mock cheer. “That’s cool. I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me where the exit was.”

“It’s always good to see a friendly face in these trying times,” Dr. Coomer commented. He sounded tired. Perhaps he was growing weary of Benrey’s reappearing act, as well.

The entity went on, leaning back on the heels of his hands and crossing one leg over the other. “Y’know, it was so quiet before you guys came here.”

Gordon was either used to Benrey resurrecting himself by now or simply sick of his shit, because he hopped the train tracks and got right up in his face without an ounce of hesitation. Dr Coomer hopped up beside him and took a seat while Bubby wandered off to check for resources. Tommy stood on the other side of the rails, watching carefully, daring Benrey to try anything.

“Yeah. Hey,” Gordon snapped. “Mind if I ask you something? Why were you buddy-buddy with those two guys?” He tossed a gesture at the fresh bodies on the desert sand. “They were just staring at you. Can you explain what was going on here - this scene before we walked in?”

Benrey shrugged. “Yeah, they had their passport. What was I supposed to do?”

Gordon let out a frustrated huff. “They are trying to  _ kill _ us. You included. I don’t know why they w-”

“Looks like you tried to kill _ them _ and it worked,” Benrey interrupted him.

“I - we’re -” Gordon gave the entity a dismissive wave. Tommy could see the tension knotting up in his neck from where he stood. “I’m gonna consult the group. You stay right there. Coomer-”

“I think you’re the bad guy,” The entity went on, flashing a smile full of needles. “I think you’re mean.”

Gordon was fed up. He shot Benrey point-blank.

“Shut the _ fuck  _ up.”

The entity’s eyes shone dangerously, unaffected by the gaping hole in his cheek. He stuck his tongue out and began babbling at Gordon mockingly while blood oozed from the wound. Tommy sighed and stepped away. Absolutely juvenile.

It took a few minutes to corral the team into a criss-crossed huddle beneath an overhang. Benrey decided to play along and keep his distance, which initially surprised Tommy until he learned it was so that he could lob scavenged eggs into their midst like he was shooting free throws. Tommy rested his chin in his palm and sighed as he was spattered with yolk. They were already caked in sweat, grime, and alien gore - what was one more substance to add to the cocktail?

Gordon addressed the group earnestly. “There’s something incredibly suspicious about Benrey just hanging out with some soldiers. Is this - do you agree? Do you get the same vibe that I do?

Dr. Coomer only had enough energy to offer a short, “Hello, Gordon,” from where he sat. He had his head tipped back, surveying the stars. 

Bubby was more direct. “No.”

Gordon blinked, taken aback. “Why not? Who-”

“I agree,” Tommy threw in sarcastically. “Benrey is a valuable employee here at Black Mesa.”

Gordon, fully aware of Tommy’s opinion, gave him a you’re-not-helping look. He turned back to Bubby. “I think he’s an issue that needs to be dealt with,” he explained. “Like, how do you guys not get this? He’s sitting in front of the soldiers, that we’ve killed - that have tried to kill us at least ten times now. Just  _ hanging _ out. Did he strike a deal with them?”

Bubby’s expression was carefully neutral. “But Gordon, he’s a security guard,” he responded.

Tommy slanted Bubby a narrowed look. Surely he was too smart to assume Benrey was merely a security guard by now.

“They’ve been killing them, too!” Gordon argued. “I’ve seen a soldier shoot one of the security guards.”

Bubby wasn’t buying it. “What?”

“Yes, we’ve seen that a hundred times!”

“Well, they can’t do that,” Dr. Coomer remarked. “Killing people is illegal.” 

“Ye-” Gordon’s brow furrowed. “Legality is no longer a concern.”

He went on at length about the moral dilemmas they were facing while Tommy did his best to redirect the eggs being thrown at them. He was currently handling the deaths he had witnessed as he did most things - by ignoring them. His chest was a sleek leather suitcase stuffed with emotion he was too afraid to unpack. Was it the best way to deal with it? Probably not. Would he have a nervous breakdown about it later? Well.

“I have no guilt weighing on my conscience, Gordon,” Coomer answered him. “Can you say the same?”

“No,” Gordon sighed. He had a faraway look on his face. “I can’t.”

Maybe they’d both have a nervous breakdown about it later. 

The conversation shifted as they sat, exhausted, in a circle. It was quiet out here. Finally.  _ Finally. _ The needle on Tommy’s mental speedometer could pull back a tick. He wanted to lay out flat on his back and watch the stars wheel overhead like he used to as a kid. He probably would have, if he wasn’t getting pelted by eggs. 

“What are your guys’ greatest dreams?” Gordon asked them at length. “If today didn’t happen. And you got to go home, and you got to keep on living your life, what - what is your life’s goal?”

What a question. Tommy studied Gordon pensively, wondering what brought this on. The man was tired, his expression heavy, stress pulling at the corners of his mouth. The moon reflected prettily off the lenses of his glasses, but the eyes behind them were brimming with a deep ache. He wanted out of this nightmare - they all did - but this was Tommy’s first hint that Gordon didn’t fully believe they’d actually make it.

Tommy hugged his knees to his chest, listening to Bubby relaying his dream of going to space and Coomer waxing poetic about boxing. Gordon nodded along, intent and encouraging. The sincerity in his voice as he affirmed their deepest wants wrapped like a thick blanket around them. Tommy felt a newfound affection for Gordon quietly unfurling as he hung onto his words. The man was brave, which was hard enough in itself, but he was also kind, which was much, much harder. 

Not for the first time, Tommy had the impulse to reach out and grasp his hand, offering some shred of comfort in a compound that wanted him dead. We’re gonna be okay, he wanted to say. We’re gonna make it out of here. 

Gordon turned those dark eyes on Tommy. It was his turn. “Tommy, you wanna-” He faltered distractedly, gaze skipping all over his face, his neck, his coat. “You - maybe should...”

“Yeah?” Tommy asked, expectant.

“We need to get you a shower,” Gordon said finally. “You are covered in that shit.”

Tommy smirked. Speak for yourself, Sewage Boy. His smile froze when Gordon reached for him, presumably to wipe some of “that shit” off of his face, but before he could touch him, something small and painful came sailing in their direction. It bounced off Gordon’s skull and clattered to the ground, followed by several others. 

“Ow, fuck,” Gordon grimaced, rubbing his head. “These are  _ rocks _ ,” he remarked, glancing around for the source. “Yeah, these aren’t eggs. What the fuck?”

Tommy sighed heavily, knowing Benrey was somewhere nearby, watching. Would it kill him to not be the center of attention for five minutes? Bubby and Coomer, not too keen on taking projectiles to the face, excused themselves from the conversation. Distantly, Tommy could hear them kicking around a ball, and was too tired to wonder where they had found it.

“Tommy, what are your dreams?” Gordon asked once the hail of rocks let up. “You have a lot to aspire to. What do you want to do - your - with your life?”

Tommy honestly hoped Gordon would have forgotten to ask. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable answering the question, it was just that he wasn’t sure he  _ had  _ an answer to the question. He had the universe at his fingertips, unparalleled power allowing him to go anywhere, to be anything.

Over time, however, he’d learned that the most fulfilling things to him were simple, humble joys. Sleeping in late on a Sunday morning. A cold popsicle on a hot day. Jokes that made him laugh so hard he cried. What he wanted to do with his life had been chewed smaller and smaller, even, in these past two days. Now he just dreamed of a good nap. A hot meal. A long shower. A clean set of sheets.

Gordon was still watching him, patiently giving him the time he needed to answer, and Tommy felt that affection behind his ribs blooming stronger. 

“Um, if this... wouldn’t have happened…” He wanted to be sincere, to show a true part of himself, carefully, to Gordon. “I would have gone home, and I would’ve eaten dinner, and then I would've given my dog Sunkist a walk.”

Gordon blinked those delightfully long eyelashes of his. “I - that - I mean like, I already asked what you want to do when you go home. That’s nice, though.” His voice was soft and genuine, and he meant every word he said. “Um, but yeah, no, I mean like your dream for your life. Like, tonight you would eat dinner and feed Sunkist. But what about like, ten years from now? What do you want to do with your life?”

Tommy’s gaze lingered on Gordon for a very long time. He decided to deflect one truth with a different truth.

“Um, I’d still be taking care of Sunkist, because he’s immortal,” he allowed.

Gordon’s mouth parted in surprise. “Did your mom - you don’t have a mom. Who told you your dog’s immortal?”

“It’s a - uh-” How would Tommy explain the concept of Sunkist, that perfect, loyal, canid star? God, he missed him so much. “I made the dog,” he decided. “I made an immortal dog.”

A shocked laugh bubbled up from Gordon’s chest. Tommy couldn't help smiling in return. It was certainly a wild notion, spoken aloud, but a true one nonetheless. He was glad he got to share it with the man sitting across from him. 

“I will - it will live long-” He stopped, caught his words, and tried again. “Sunkist will live longer than me.”

Gordon blew out an impressed breath, nodding. “I believe that. I mean,” he caught Tommy’s gaze, raising his brows in a significant look. “You’re a pretty talented man.”

Tommy blushed delicately at that. Flatterer, he wanted to say. Sweet talker. He wished he could say  _ anything _ , even _ thank you _ , because that’s a thing that people say when they’re complimented. But he could only stare back mutely, cheeks glowing with gentle warmth.

“Um, yeah,” Gordon said. “Okay.” He heaved himself to his feet. Looked away. Scratched the back of his neck. “My dream?” He went on. “I don't know if you guys even care…”

Dr. Coomer had lost interest in the soccer game and wandered back over to the two of them. “I’d love to hear it, Gordon,” he piped up, tilting his head to the side with genuine curiosity.

Tommy nodded in agreement.

Gordon brightened. “My dream? You heard of the - there’s this new thing, Justin.tv? A website, have you been to Justin.tv? I wanna be a Justin.tv streamer.”

Dr. Coomer and Tommy looked at each other for clarification, but they were both equally lost. “What do they stream?” Coomer asked politely.

Gordon shrugged. “I mean usually, like, video games? Y’know like, the hottest new releases, like,  _ Kane & Lynch 2: Dog Days _ .”

“That sounds pretty lame, Gordon,” Bubby commented, drawing up beside Coomer.

“I’ve never been big on video games.” The old boxer added.

“I mean, yeah, it’s - maybe it’s immature,” Gordon granted, “but I love it. And I mean, like, if I could do that with my money? And my time? That’d be incredible.”

Tommy didn’t know what half of the words Gordon had said meant, but he enjoyed seeing the way the guy’s face lit up in excitement when he talked about it. What a wonderful smile. What a lovely, desperate hope.

Dr. Coomer was still pondering. “My ex wife loved  _ Kane & Lynch _ ,” he recalled.

“It’s a great game,” Gordon said. “You should - I know you don’t like video games, but you should try it. It might turn you on the - on the medium.”

Coomer placed a delicate hand over his own chest, reeling back against Bubby in pretend shock. “It could  _ turn _ me?”

Tommy put his head in his hands, shaking with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene gets its own chapter bc it is just oh so good. I loved that Gordon took the time to just sit down and talk about everyone's dreams. I fell a little bit in love with him then, too.
> 
> A lot of you have found me on tumblr and sent me nice asks about this fic and I want to thank you from the bottom of my lil gay heart for your kind words. I'm so glad this fic is being enjoyed by so many people. I'm having a blast writing it.


	8. Chapter 8

The group gathered their affairs in order before heading back into the halls of Black Mesa. Gordon informed Benrey that he was allowed to tag along with them - a formality, really, as he’d be tagging along regardless - while Dr. Coomer took it upon himself to clear the canyon walls and have a look at what lay beyond. If there was any chance they could scamper out of hell by trekking through the desert, he’d let them know.

The scientist returned with nothing but a haunted expression on his face. “Well, Gordon,” he said, “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Why - what’s up there?” Gordon rested his hands on his waist in question. “How many hours of walking d’you think-”

“There’s nothing there,” Coomer intoned flatly. 

Gordon exchanged a glance with Bubby. “What? Like, there’s no land?” he asked. “There’s gotta be like-”

Dr. Coomer interrupted again, staring him down insistently. “There’s nothing. There.”

Tommy was pretty certain that by “nothing,” Coomer meant hundreds of miles of dust and scrubland. Gordon, however, took it a little more literally than that.

“What if Black Mesa’s all there is?” he ventured, fear edging into his voice. “What if this is it?”

Tommy was about to tell him that this was probably not the case, and that Dr. Coomer was likely just caught off guard by the crushing reality of being in New Mexico in general, but before he could open his mouth, Bubby spoke up.

“Then we kill everyone and take it for ourselves,” he said with a shrug. He turned and headed for the blast doors without waiting for an answer from the others. 

One by one, the team followed him, giving a farewell to the open sky before plunging back into the facility. Gordon was the last to go, and Tommy saw him let out a pained exhale as he cast one last glance at the stars. 

“Man, I hope we make it out of here,” he said softly, and in that moment he looked so small, so vulnerable under the moon’s uncaring glow that Tommy almost broke apart just laying eyes on him.

Gordon turned. Caught him staring. He offered Tommy a weak, hasty smile, pieced together by whatever small shred of willpower he had left. “Let’s go,” he told him.

They went. More enemies were waiting for them on the other side, which they dutifully eliminated. They skirted a massive launch pad and entered the bunker adjacent to it, clearing the rooms one by one. Tommy pulled his weight and took out soldiers mechanically alongside his teammates. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get the scent of blood out of his clothes.

This appeared to be the control building for the launch pad outside, with the two points of interest being a computer lab and the control room itself. Gordon tried unsuccessfully to connect to the internet on one of the consoles, frustratedly tacking away at the keys while Benrey drawled some joke about editing his death into a Wikipedia article. While admittedly hilarious, Tommy wasn’t about to give the entity the satisfaction of laughing at something that was just a thinly veiled threat. 

Gordon finally gave up trying to gain a signal on the computer. “I’m done with this,” he sighed. “Let’s leave.”

“I don’t understand, they must’ve been slacking off,” Tommy commented at Gordon’s back as he passed by him. “All of these computers are just looking at pictures of lettuce.”

Gordon’s footsteps faltered as he let out a snicker. He turned back to Tommy, showing off that pretty smile that still sprang readily to the surface, despite everything. “And I can’t seem to change the page they’re on,” he chuckled, whisking his hand across one of the keyboards as he played along.

The intercom interrupted their banter, announcing that the rocket was ready for launch. That was odd, Tommy thought, none of them had primed the launch sequence. At least, not that he could recall. Wait, where was Bubby?

Rushing to the control room, they arrived just in time to see the domed nose of the rocket thundering out of the bunker. Gordon threw the blast doors closed and everyone crowded around the window to watch. Distantly, Tommy could see a small figure clinging to the hull of the aircraft.

A familiar voice hollered outside. “My dream comes true! I’m leaving this world!”

Holy shit. Bubby didn’t even get  _ inside _ the rocket.

“Crazy son of a bitch,” Gordon murmured in awe, eyes tracking the missile’s upward climb.

Beside Tommy, Dr. Coomer clutched at his face. “Bubby, no!” he cried, his voice thin with distress. “There’s nothing out there!”

Only the teeth-rattling rumble of the rocket could be heard for a while as they all watched it disappear into the sky. Silence fell. Gordon was stunned, blinking heavily out the blast door window, while Benrey sat a ways off on the console, looking bored. Dr. Coomer was holding onto himself, an elbow clutched in each hand, with a mournful expression on his face. His concern for Bubby was touching, and Tommy didn’t know how to delicately inform him that his friend had likely incinerated in the earth’s atmosphere and would reappear within minutes.

And reappear he did, crashing into the room with an elated declaration of, “Gordon! I was in outer space!”

Gordon whirled, startled. “You’re - no, you-”

“Bubby!” Coomer elbowed past Gordon. “Is that you?”

Bubby rushed to meet him. “Yes! Dr. Coomer,” he replied, pulling the other man into a tight embrace.

Tommy lanced a brows-raised look at Benrey, who had idly been watching the whole exchange from his perch on the console.  _ When did that happen? _ he mouthed.

The entity caught his gaze. _ When did what happen?  _ he mouthed back churlishly.

Tommy made a discontented noise in the back of his throat and shook his head. 

Gordon was rubbing the side of his face with one hand, looking utterly spent. “I vote… we rest here, because that’s gotta be just sleep deprivation at this point, right?” he tossed a weary gesture toward Bubby. “And we can lock this place up with all the doors... This is a good place to rest. I think we need to call it a day.”

After making a thorough rotation of the compound, securely locking and barricading the entrances, the team settled down to sleep. Dr. Coomer volunteered to take the first watch, propping himself up against the computer console to wait, while the others picked out spots on the floor. Tommy didn’t feel very comfortable letting his guard down in any room Benrey inhabited, choosing instead to remain upright and awake in case the entity tried anything. It wasn’t like he  _ needed _ to sleep, anyway.

Gordon, exhausted, had no qualms of his own. “Goodnight, Benrey,” he yawned, sprawling out on the tile. “Goodnight, Bubby. Goodnight, Tommy.”

The hair on the back of Tommy’s neck suddenly prickled in a familiar way. Someone was nearby. Someone he knew.

“Goodnight, Tommy,” Gordon repeated drowsily.

Tommy cast him a distracted look, briefly meeting his half-lidded, sleepy gaze. Oh, wow. What a pleasant sight, seeing him all soft around the edges like that. Was Gordon waiting for Tommy to wish him goodnight back? That was nice, but...

“I don’t need to sleep yet,” he responded with some hesitance. 

“Now, Tommy, we’ve discussed this,” Coomer asserted, even though they hadn’t. “It’s important to get your rest.”

Gordon abruptly propped up on his elbows, eyes bright and alert as they fixed on something past Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy followed his gaze, just barely catching a tall man in a crisp suit disappearing around the corner.

Gordon was up in a blink. “Stay here,” he told them, waving a hand as he strode quickly after the figure.

Shit. Tommy scrambled to his feet and followed him. Gordon’s pace was so brisk that Tommy barely rounded the corner in time to catch him exchanging words with his father. His tone was sharp, interrogative. His father responded, smooth and even. Tommy stood back with hands in the pockets of his slacks. He didn’t dare interrupt.

Drained as he was, Gordon eventually turned away from the shimmering mirage that was Tommy’s father. “It’s not real,” he muttered, shouldering past Tommy to return to the control room. “It’s not real.”

Tommy watched him go, then flicked his gaze to the man at the other end of the computer lab. “Hey, Dad.”

His father raised a casual hand, and Tommy felt a wave of energy bubble outward to surround them. The screensavers froze on the nearby computers. The hands on the wall clock stuck fast. Tommy let it wash over him, grateful for the stillness.

“Hello, Thomas,” his father smiled, stepping closer, smooth as glass. “I trust you’re doing well.”

Tommy raised and dropped his shoulders in a shrug. “Well, I mean, I am. Sorta. But things are getting real scary in here.”

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.” his father said, tilting his head mildly as he surveyed his son. His eyes were a contradiction, cold as outer space, burning like a dying star. Lesser men would wilt under such a gaze, but Tommy had been raised by it. Found it familiar.

“Ye - sure. I’m... yeah,” he answered carefully. “A little more information would be nice, though.”

His father arched an eyebrow delicately. “Tommy, this is an unprecedented occurrence, there’s only so much that  _ I _ know, and even less that I can share with you.”

Tommy was aware. This wasn’t his first time being a piece in one of his father’s chess games, and while he was rarely a pawn, it didn’t feel much better to be a knight or a rook, either. All of the pieces were kept in the dark, and the less they knew, the less likely they were to deviate from their assigned roles. He understood why his father did it this way, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

At least Tommy knew it was a game, and he got to choose whether he played along. That put him leagues ahead of the others, who had no idea their actions were all predicted and planned beforehand. Their sense of control was fabricated, and every step they took toward their own goals was furthering the ends of another.

Tommy was sorely tempted to tap out, call it quits, tell his father,  _ stop, this is too much, I want out.  _ That option was always available to him, to blink out of the plane until this all blew over. Leave the team, fully capable of taking care of themselves, high and dry.

But.

“Why are you watching Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked, folding his arms more as a self-soothing gesture than an act of confrontation.

A smile flickered across his father’s face. “He plays a critical part in making sure this disaster is mitigated.”

He suspected as much, but the truth still made his shoulders sag. “He just wants to go home, I think,” he said quietly.

“You are fond of him,” his father answered.

It wasn't a question, and Tommy didn’t deny it. “He’s... the only person here who seems to care,” he explained, and he heard his own voice shake even as he said it.

“So you can see why I chose him.”

Tommy let out a frustrated noise. “He’s just one guy.”

“How fortunate, then,” his father said, “that he has you.”

Tommy fell silent. His father had hand-picked his messiah, and, as planned, Tommy couldn’t bring himself to leave Gordon behind. He would walk with him every step of the way, wherever his path took him. Tommy wished desperately that he could see himself as Gordon’s protector, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just leading the guy like a lamb to the slaughter.

He raised his eyes to meet his father’s as he watched Tommy patiently. They were a striking visage, a warped mirror of one another as they stood face to face in the frozen computer room. Tommy in his lab coat and dress shoes, wrinkled and haggard, stained with blood. His father, crisp and sleek in his business suit, calm and composed as he always was. Tommy wondered if he’d ever look like that. He wasn’t even sure he really wanted to.

His father heaved a sigh that shivered the silence around them. “I will tell you this, Tommy,” he said. “Tomorrow will be particularly difficult for both of you. I trust you will make the right decision.”

That advice was maddeningly vague. The past 48 hours had been pretty fucking difficult as they were. What, besides infantrymen, extraterrestrials, and the environmental hazards lurking in Black Mesa, could his father feel compelled to warn him about?

“Wait,” Tommy stretched out a hand as his father began to warp out of the room. “Difficult how?”

But the clock was ticking again. He was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *revs my dialogue chainsaw* alright whose throwaway improv lines are getting cut in this scene?
> 
> Tommy is the real protagonist of hlvrai and nobody can convince me otherwise. Are you kidding me? Do you know how fucking responsible I'd feel if my dad was pulling the strings on a life or death situation like this? And how that irreparably affects my friends??? The GUILT..... Anyway I have a lot of feelings about Tommy. I didn't think an improvised AI character in a silly video game stream would mean so much to me but here the fuck I am I guess. 
> 
> I am forever grateful for everyone's nice comments, they really keep me going and I'm glad this is resonating so much with all of you. 
> 
> (shorter chapter this time for pacing's sake. the next one is about to be long af)


	9. Chapter 9

The next day brought sharks and gunfire, squids and murder. Dr. Coomer, with newfound vigor from the previous night’s rest, was racking up a pretty impressive kill count, growing in power as more of his clones were eliminated. Tommy drifted away in his head most of the morning, dwelling on his father’s words and the guilt that came with them.

He kept an eye on Benrey, as always, but there was little need to. The entity had chosen to cooperate for the most part, aside from pestering Gordon every step of the way. Gordon had learned to just go along with Benrey’s gags, giving him space to blow off some steam until he got bored. It was a surprisingly effective method of dealing with the guy, and Tommy once again found himself struck by not only Gordon’s strength and tenacity, but his remarkable resourcefulness. Maybe that doctorate from MIT really was worth something.

Controlling the entity (as far as the entity would allow himself to be controlled) was pretty much the only win they had that day. The rest of their journey had them swimming through drowned, claustrophobic tunnels, avoiding the jaws of the creatures that slithered within. Tommy wasn’t a fan, but Gordon outright hated it, coughing and spluttering every time they surfaced, waterlogged and exhausted.

The adrenaline in Gordon’s blood was pretty much the only thing keeping him moving, yet he fought on, intent on making his way to the Lambda Lab. Right. The Lambda Lab. Find the lab, close the rift, and then they could all go home.

Tommy very, very badly wanted to go home.

When Gordon nearly had a panic attack after mistaking a soda can for a grenade, Tommy finally pried himself out of his mental fog. Knock it off, dude. Now wasn’t the time to zone out and brood. People could die, and one of them in particular did not have the ability to regenerate himself if that happened.

Bubby and Benrey had begun whispering among themselves, which was a cause for concern. Tommy listened in when he could and caught mostly insults - something he was inclined to dismiss - but the way Benrey’s eyes glinted when Tommy looked his way didn’t quite sit right. 

“Can’t friends talk?” Bubby had asked hotly.

That was it. Benrey didn’t _ have _ friends. Tommy let his gaze slide away, swallowing his words but keeping his suspicions close.

After rendering a perfectly good server room completely useless, they came upon one of Dr. Coomer’s clones, who had posted himself up outside a heavy lead door. He actually recognized Gordon, which was unexpected. You’re the guy in the HEV suit, he told them. We’ve been tracking your progress, he told them. 

Dr. Coomer scratched his chin and swept the group with a troubled look. “Gordon, that means you’ve been leading the military to us this whole time,” he concluded.

“What? But - I mean I can’t even take it off.” Gordon gave himself an up-and-down gesture.

“Oh,” Benrey noted flatly. “Maybe you need to die.” 

“What?” Gordon demanded. “I don’t need to  _ die _ .” 

Benrey responded by nonchalantly raising his firearm. He pulled the trigger and contents of the clone’s skull splattered against the wall. Gordon took a step back, nauseated.

“I was gonna ask him a very valuable question,” he uttered, averting his gaze. 

“I’ve absorbed his power, Gordon,” Coomer brightly informed him. “Ask me.”

Tommy was staring hard at Benrey as Gordon went back and forth with Dr. Coomer about the possibility of ditching the suit. The entity’s pupils were haloed with reflected light as he returned his gaze, baring his razor smile in a challenge. Tommy didn’t say anything, his eyes wandering instead to the peculiarly shaped door. Something radiated from the back of his skull as he studied it, as if the heavy barricade itself were a warning.

“This door is ominous,” he murmured.

When the science team all cast him curious looks, he realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud. “It’s shaped like a B,’ he elaborated. “What could that mean? ‘Buh’ door?” That was a silly thing to say, he thought in retrospect, but it was what came out of his mouth.

Gordon gave him a mystified smile. “‘Buh’ door?” he repeated.

“No, I think those are glasses,” Benrey said.

Gordon shook his head, passing a glance between them. “What are any of you saying?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Gordon, smiling despite his unease. “Buh,” he reiterated, just to make him wheeze with laughter.

Benrey and Bubby began repeating the sound, too, and Tommy wasn’t sure if they were having fun or mocking him. At this point, both options were plausible.

Gordon was still grinning. His teeth were so even; he had definitely been a braces kid. “Working on your phonics, Tommy?” 

Sure. Yeah. That was it. Most people didn’t look at a B-shaped entryway and immediately feel a crawling beneath their skin. Well, except for some very particular interior designers, perhaps. He held Gordon’s gaze and didn’t respond.

Dr. Coomer, restless, was already heading through the door. “The B stands for ‘bye!’” he called cheerfully.

The room that followed was freezing, the floors slick with ice. The creatures within were a low threat, slipping and sliding around as they were on the frozen surface, but that meant the team of scientists was equally ineffective at shooting them. 

“Whoah, guys, it’s icy!” Gordon called, flinging his arms out for balance. 

“It’s cold as hell in here.” Bubby observed with exasperation. He fired at an alien, corrected his aim, and fired again.

Tommy made a deal with the laws of physics for a brief time, allowing him to traverse the frozen room with relative stability. Benrey was more brazen and simply sauntered on through as if the ice wasn’t even there, paying the creatures no mind as he went. Weirdly enough, they seemed to be ignoring him back. Before Tommy could think on that much longer, Gordon’s excited voice drew his attention.

“You guys like ice skating?” he asked, eyes alight as he slid across the room. “I was never one for it. I don’t got really good balance.”

Laughing with delight, breath fogging in the chilly air, Gordon whirled with his arms above his head in a wobbly pirouette. Tommy watched him, unable to keep the smile off his face as he did. The fact that Gordon was still finding joy after almost three days in this hellscape nearly made the ice melt beneath Tommy’s feet. 

Bubby’s irritated voice came from around a pillar. “Gordon, now is not the time for jokes.”

With some effort, Gordon stopped spinning. “Bro, lemme have a little fun,” he shot back. “It’s serious, but like-”

“My life is in danger!”

“So is mine!” Gordon insisted. “But like, when you guys have fun, when you’re fucking with me-”

“Your technique is sloppy, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer chimed in, sliding into the vicinity with a flourish. “Perhaps we should practice once we get out of the Black Mesa facility.”

Gordon’s smile returned in earnest. “Oh?” he asked. “Show me your form.”

The old man spread his arms wide, as if gearing up for a complicated maneuver, and then collapsed dramatically onto the icy floor. Tommy bit down on his knuckles to hide his laughter while Gordon waved him off, chuckling.

The three of them caught up to Benrey and Bubby, Gordon keeping up his skating routine as he went. Tommy trailed after him, gunning down encroaching extraterrestrials so the guy could have his fun. At one point, Gordon spun and stretched out a hand to Tommy, bowed at the waist, mouth quirking in wordless invitation. 

Tommy paused, staring at his open palm, wishing more than anything that he could take it. Just forget about the creatures and the soldiers and the rift in space for one fucking second and let himself get swept away by this charming gentleman in front of him. He felt his throat tighten. He positively ached for it.

Declining with a polite smile, he shook his head. Perhaps once this nightmare was over, when they were no longer concerned about staying alive. Something to look forward to, something to make horrors they fought through worth it. Tommy owed him a dance. For now, however, he offered Gordon something he could always give.

“B stands for ‘below freezing,’” he quipped.

Gordon laughed, warm and genuine, and withdrew his hand. “Oh, _ now _ I get it.”

\---

The price they paid for seeing the sky again was an onslaught of new adversaries. They were  _ fast _ . Bubby scouted up ahead and immediately scampered back to the group, a wild look on his face as he murmured, “Oh my god.”

Gordon was peering around a crate, eyes narrowed. “Did you see that?” he asked. “Was that a woman?”

Tommy’s eyes could barely track their movements, agile as they were. They didn’t really look like anything to him, much less women, and he was about to turn his head to say so when Coomer charged ahead of them with fervor.

“Look out, Gordon!” the scientist exclaimed.“Hotted boobs up ahead! Tits, big ones!”

Gordon’s subsequent shriek of laughter was so forceful he almost misfired his weapon. Beside him, Tommy could hardly keep it together enough to provide cover fire. When Gordon sprinted after him, calling a hesitant, “Dr. Coomer, I don’t think that was very respectful,” he lost it all over again.

Bubby and Dr. Coomer took out the majority of the nimble creatures, while Gordon mostly missed his shots and Benrey slouched indifferently through the crossfire. After checking themselves over for injury (and a moment of questionable target practice on some moths), they found the surface access switch and kept moving.

Tommy felt that dark prickle near the base of his skull again as he habitually brought up the rear. They were going the right way, right?

“I’m a little nervous,” Gordon said, vocalizing Tommy’s unease. “What about the airstrikes?”

Oh, right, that was a good point, too. The threat of heavy military artillery sometimes slipped Tommy’s mind. Perhaps they could find another route to the lab.

“What’s there to be nervous about?” Bubby asked, striding ahead with confidence. “We’re going home.”

Benrey idled in the back next to Tommy, fingers laced behind his head like he was lounging in a hammock. “Look at all - all that room,” he said, shooting Tommy a sly look. “We’re going on a mystery walk.”

Nothing about that sounded good to Tommy, and he was suddenly on edge. He gave Benrey a piercing stare, but the entity only showed him his shark teeth and meandered after the party. Tommy followed, pulse on the upswing.

“Gordon, if you play it carefully, this will cut down our travel to the Lambda Lab by about three hours,” Dr. Coomer declared.

“Down to thirteen minutes!” Bubby added.

“Oh,” Gordon remarked, taken aback by such fortuitous news. “That’s the whole duration. That’s the entire thing.”

“Yes!” Bubby went on excitedly. He pointed to a room down the hall. “And look, there’s even a medical station in there.”

Gordon considered. He had taken a few hits in the last fight. Nothing life threatening - Tommy had made sure of that - but it was likely still painful. “A med station… I could probably-”

“Medical stations can be used to recover from wounds, Gordon,” Coomer interrupted helpfully.

Benrey was apostrophe shaped as he lounged against the doorway. “Wow,” he murmured, tossing a look inside the adjacent room. “They got TV and Blu-ray… high definition…”

Gordon waved him off in disregard. “We don’t need that. I’m-

“They got a couch,” Benrey added, as if this would sweeten the deal.

“I’m not interested.”

“I heard Blu-ray is better than DVD,” Tommy couldn’t help commenting dryly.

He didn’t like this. This was weird. Well, on par for Benrey, but Bubby’s firm insistence that Gordon enter the room before he did was setting off alarm bells in his head. His fingers tightened around the grip of his handgun.

Gordon was still bickering with the two of them, hampered by the semantics of laser disc technology. Tommy quietly moved closer, darting his eyes around the area for anything indicative of danger. He caught the gaze of Dr. Coomer, who was just standing there patiently with an idle hand on his crossbow. He looked unbothered as the argument escalated.

Benrey’s eyes were beginning to flash in a wordless threat. He leered at Gordon, revealing his pointed teeth. “You wanna go in?” He was no longer asking. “Please?”

Gordon, who had learned by now to pick his battles with the entity, relented. “Alright,” he sighed. “Okay. I guess… I’m gonna go for it.”

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong, wrong, wrong. Panic shuddered like a javelin down Tommy’s spine, and as he reached out a hand to pull Gordon back, the lights cut out. Some outside force locked onto Tommy, pinning him to his position in space like an insect on a corkboard. 

Gordon faltered. “Okay, uh, who’s fucking with me?”

“What the hell?” Bubby asked, voice lined with a facetious edge. “What is happening?”

Benrey, on the other hand, sounded like he was having the time of his life. “Ohhh, it’s dark in here,” he groaned, barely attempting to hide his glee.

Tommy, nerves alive, fought against whatever had nailed him to the spot. This didn’t  _ happen _ . Tommy didn’t just get  _ stuck _ , and there was a very short list of beings who could make him do so against his will. He cast his gaze around frantically for any clue of what was happening, but it was so dark he may as well have been blindfolded.

Gordon was irritated now. “Who the fuck knocked out the lights?”

Dr. Coomer’s response was as neutral as it was useless. “Hello, Go- Has anyone seen Mr. Freeman?”

Heavy footsteps came barreling at them, accompanied by Bubby’s cry of, “there he is - get him!”

There was the sound of impact. The rush of air being forced from a pair of lungs. Then… Tommy didn’t remember much of what happened next. 

Shouting. There was plenty of that. Tommy thought maybe he yelled something, but he couldn’t be sure. All he could register fully were the sounds of Gordon crying out in pain and the feeling of his own doomed grief as his muscles failed to work.

And help.  _ Help. _ Gordon was pleading for help, and Tommy thought his heart would stop if he had to listen to it anymore.

The blade cleaving through bone was the loudest sound in the world.

Gordon fell horrifically silent. The scent of blood saturated the air like a stain. Tommy’s stomach bottomed out as he heard the soft slide of a body being dragged away. 

“Now, gentlemen,” Dr. Coomer’s voice echoed off the darkened walls, “let’s get out of here before they peel us apart.”

Footsteps dispersed as the team made itself scarce. Whatever had been holding Tommy in place finally released him, and he dropped numbly to the floor, trembling in the dreadful aftershock. His hands slicked through blood and he almost threw up. The truth, heavy and unrepentant, settled in on his shoulders.

He was alone.

Alone.

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, shit dawg we just broke 20k words.... wtf is wrong with me....
> 
> hollering at my screen as I rewatch the streams so I can write this fic: THE B DOOR WAS FORESHADOWING THE B DOOR WAS FORESHADOWING TH-  
> Perpetually sad that the ice skating scene got cut from the edited saga. Gordon is so cute how could they leave that out, come on. Also I sat here thinking about how I would contextualize the characters just straight up shooting some moths for like, a good hour before deciding to toss it because???? what are they doing???? Iconic scene. Revolutionary. I'm not about to make it make sense, though.
> 
> THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO HAS LEFT KUDOS AND COMMENTS AND ENCOURAGED ME THIS FAR HOLY SHIT I LOVE YOU. (And special thanks to Cosma as always for letting me pester her constantly as I write, u r the best)


	10. Chapter 10

Tommy wandered Black Mesa for what felt like days.

It couldn’t have been days; his hands were still sticky with rust and he hadn’t gone far from where - 

Where  _ that  _ happened.

He didn’t feel like he even had permission to mourn. Tommy barely knew Gordon - had known him for maybe 72 hours max - but he had grown so important so rapidly that his absence punched a hole straight through Tommy’s torso. He couldn’t shake the sense of loss, how bitterly unfair it all was.

To have someone be such an  _ almost _ . An almost friend. An almost lover. Never having gotten close enough to be allowed to miss him.

This was not to mention the overwhelming sense of guilt that had crawled inside his lungs. If he had been quicker, if his judgment were sharper, he could have prevented this. If he had been strong enough to break free of whatever bound him. If he had paid greater mind to his father’s warning.

Tommy drifted, heavy with regret as he glided through the halls like a spectre. Shackled down by should-haves. What did he do now? What was there left to do, when the world was fucked and the only person who gave a shit about it was dead?

The room he wound up in was cavernous, ringed with a toxic neon glow. Appropriate mood lighting, he thought wryly to himself as he stood in the shadow of a massive cistern. It was strange, standing there, saturated by radioactive waste, almost-grieving an almost-lover. Would have been nice if not for the cockroaches. 

Would have been nice if Benrey wasn’t there, too.

Tommy felt his presence as soon as he appeared, unpeeling from thin air and hanging his elbows over the edge of the cistern. Looking all the world like a kid at a pool party. Tommy watched him materialize and felt something dark settle in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey,” Benrey drawled nonchalantly.

Tommy didn’t have the patience for pleasantries. He was going to set this guy on fire. As he raised his hand toward him, the entity blurted the only thing that could have possibly saved him.

“Dude, he’s alive.” His voice was pained, as if he were already feeling the blood boiling in his own veins. “Chill.”

He released his hold on the atoms that made up the entity’s body as hope lodged a painful lump in his throat. Benrey sagged with relief while Tommy took a thoughtful step back, eyeing him warily. His hand was still lifted in a threat. 

“Where is he?” he demanded coldly.

Benrey threw his careless exterior back on once he was sure he wasn’t about to be immolated on the spot. He gave a narrow shrug. “I don’t fuckin’ know. On the move somewhere. Last I checked he wasn’t in the garbage anymore.”

The garbage. They had tossed him in the garbage. Tommy wanted to kill this guy all over again. He clamped down on that impulse, instead uttering a single, perfunctory syllable.

“Why?”

“Probably because he didn’t wanna be in the garbage anymore.”

“Why,” Tommy tried again, barely containing his anger, “did you do that to him?”

Benrey began picking at his cuticles lazily, rolling his eyes so he wouldn’t have to meet Tommy’s gaze. “I dunno. He was getting boring.”

“I don’t believe you.”

When Benrey showed him his teeth, it was more of a snarl than a smile. “Your problem, bro.”

Tommy was about to grill the entity, in both the physical and metaphorical sense, when a scuffling sound echoed from a pipe on the opposite wall. He turned, tempted to dismiss it as another alien, but a heavy thud followed, and a very human groan came shortly after. Benrey’s mouth turned into a knife as he leered at Tommy.

“Huh. Maybe he’s not so boring after all.”

Tommy turned back to face him, his stare hard and dangerous. “I’m going to kill you and then I’m going to kill you again.”

“Hurts, man,” Benrey said, but he was delighted. “Just like old times.” He dangled his arms over the edge of the cistern, grinning cheekily. “I missed this.”

The noise from the pipe was growing louder. The person inside - and he had a pretty fucking good guess who - was clearly in a lot of pain. Tommy’s heart squeezed just hearing it.

“Get out,” he told Benrey.

The entity smiled his shark’s teeth smile. “Make me.”

Tommy did. Clapped his hands together and slammed Benrey into the same pocket dimension he’d trapped that shithead soldier in only a day ago. His patience was nonexistent, his self control barely hanging on. Go have a time out in the void. It was a kinder punishment than the entity deserved.

He stood there, watching the space where Benrey had disappeared from, for several long seconds. Then he turned and strode across the room to watch the dead come back to life.

The relief that surged through Tommy upon seeing Gordon Freeman crawl out of that drain was so sudden and powerful it knocked the breath out of him. He was alive. He was alive. God, he was alive. Tommy could only stare, gaze catching mournfully when he noticed he was short a hand.

“Hey!” Gordon shouted hoarsely. He sounded terrible, like he had been dragged for three miles from the back of a moving van. Looked as much, too - he was covered in a horrible smear of his own blood and whatever sludge had been at the bottom of the trash compactor. A crack spiderwebbed across his glasses. Tommy felt awful, seeing him like that.

Gordon was still calling his name like it was the only word he knew. “He - Tom - Tommy! Tommy, up here! It’s me! Tommy.”

Tommy smiled sadly up at him. “Hello, Mr. Freeman.”

“Are you - are you here to fuckin’ kill me?” he demanded, and the fear in his words broke Tommy’s heart. “Did they tell you to finish me off? Please, please tell me-”

“No,” he interrupted him before Gordon’s voice could get any more distraught. “They tricked me.”

“What? Oh... god.” Gordon slid unceremoniously out of the pipe and onto the floor. Tommy took a step forward retroactively, but paused when he caught the nervous look Gordon threw at him. He didn’t know if he could trust Tommy. Hell, he didn’t know if he could trust  _ anybody _ .

Keeping his distance took a great deal of effort, but Tommy managed.

Gordon groaned. “Oh, my fucking arm.” He staggered to his feet, clutching the stump where his hand used to be. He returned his gaze to Tommy’s face, studying him warily. “Hey buddy,” he ventured. “What are they-what did they do to you?”

What did they do to  _ me _ ? Tommy wanted to ask. What did they do to  _ you _ , you half-dead, waterlogged, survivor of a man? He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, joking to calm his nerves.

“Um, they gave me a Beyblade.”

Gordon paused, ignoring the jest as he puzzled over Tommy’s situation. “In exchange for - for going with them? Why are you - th - did they leave you behind?”

“Yeah,” Tommy answered. He turned his eyes back to Gordon, utterly loathing himself. “I ran away.”

Gordon, however, relaxed visibly at this. “Oh my god,” he sighed, and then he didn’t approach so much as he pitched forward, unsteady on his feet as he was from blood loss. Tommy caught him, pulling him in close. The armor of his suit dug into his chest but he hardly cared, arms clasped tightly around Gordon as if he would slip through his fingers if he let go.

The other man sagged against him, barely able to stand. “Thank you, man,” he breathed. “Honestly.”

Tommy supported him, tucking his chin into the crook of his shoulder. He smelled like sweat and weeks of garbage and the awful tang of alien guts. Ironic that the first time he got to hold him like this was in a pit of toxic waste. Tommy would find it funny if Gordon wasn’t rapidly losing blood.

He smirked into his neck, drawing out the bit despite everything. “They took the Beyblade back though, Mr. Freeman.”

Gordon exhaled through his nose in a weak, silent laugh. “Oh,” he said. “Would you go back if they gave you another Beyblade?”

Tommy took a step back, steadying Gordon with both hands on his shoulders, checking him for further injury. Other than the gaping fucking hole where his hand used to be, he was purpled with welts from the beating he took. There was no telling what kind of head trauma he had - the man could barely stand upright on his own. But he was alive, alive, alive, and that was better than Tommy had allowed himself to hope for.

He was going to shred Benrey for this. Him and Bubby both. If they wanted to play god, he’d step up to the plate and take a swing. Hot, angry tears suddenly sprang to his eyes, and he pulled back, blinking them rapidly away.

“I know, that’s hard to think about,” Gordon broke in gently. “That’s a good - that’s a good deal.”

He was still playing off his stupid Beyblade joke. Tommy gave him a watery smile and swiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands, wondering what had compelled the universe to gift him with this wonderful man twice over. He glanced back at Gordon’s ruined arm, making another lame attempt at levity.

“Oh my god,” he said sarcastically. “You don’t have a hand.”

Gordon chuckled mirthlessly as he examined his own wound. “I know. I know.” He sucked in a painful breath. “Oh, god.”

“How are you going to… write?”

“That’s the least of my concerns,” he answered, suddenly serious. “I’d like to live. And get out of here.” He cast a curious look around the room. “Where the hell are we? Are we back in the nuclear reactor?”

Tommy was still fixated on the hand thing. Maybe he could pull some strings with time and space. Call in a few favors. It would be tricky, but he felt somewhat responsible for the wound’s existence at all. The least he could do was find a way to reverse it.

“We can get you a new hand, but not in this room,” he said thoughtfully.

That caught Gordon’s attention. “A prosthetic?”

“This room has too many creatures in it,” Tommy went on, wrinkling his nose in particular at the cockroaches. “It doesn’t look sanitary.”

“Do you have any medical experience?”

“No,” Tommy answered honestly. His complicated relationship with mortality made first aid knowledge a low priority. He briefly thought back to what he’d read online. Was this a tourniquet situation? Was he bleeding enough to need one of those? 

Gordon cast around for even a miniscule sense of relief. “D’you have any pills?” he asked. “You have like maybe an ibuprofen or an Advil?” He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a thin sob. “It hurts, man. It hurts a lot.”

Guilt closed around Tommy’s throat. All this power at his fingertips and he couldn’t ease Gordon’s pain even a little. 

“I only have soda,” he admitted, too drained to make it humorous. “We should get going.”

Moving to support the man’s unsteady weight, Tommy reached for his elbow. If he could get him through the facility quickly enough, he’d make it. Gordon Freeman wouldn't die here. Tommy wouldn’t let him.

“Yeah, probably not gonna be in herewait wait wait, don’t go anywhere.” Gordon yanked away from Tommy, wincing as he did so, and fixed him with a critical look. “I need - we need to talk a little bit more.”

Tommy tried to meet his eyes, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the bleeding end of his arm as it slowly dripped scarlet onto the floor. The longer they stood here talking the less time he had to live. He waited wordlessly. 

“So - enough - okay, I’m gonna trust - I’m gonna trust that you... are go - I trust-” Gordon shook his head, starting over. “Can I trust you, Tommy?”

He lifted his gaze and gave Gordon a heavy stare. “Yes.” It was not even a question. He had chosen Gordon. He wasn’t about to lose him again.

“Are we good together?”

God, Tommy hoped so.

\---

He guided Gordon through the obstacle course from hell, answering his constant slew of questions as best as he could without breaking his brain. Tommy wanted to shush him - the more he spoke the quicker he would bleed out - but he suspected that the constant talking grounded him somewhat, so he spoke to him gently in reply.

Gordon’s thoughts had turned the tap on and his mouth was a faucet of words. He was steadily losing hope; it leaked out of him like the blood from his stump, his sanity going with it.

Tommy needed to keep him alert and engaged. He murmured into his ear as he carried him through Black Mesa, reassurances and stories and the shittiest jokes he could think of. I’m here. I’m here. You’re safe. You’re safe. Stay with me.

“Look,” he told him as they leapt unsteadily over a pathway of stones. “That rock you’re standing on looks like Tibet.”

It was a delayed response, but he saw Gordon’s shoulders shake as he snickered. “Showing off your geography skills even in the worst of times, huh?”

Good. They were still good. Tommy turned, continuing to lead.

They kept moving.

Emerging on the other side of a network of pipes, they were met with a room clustered with vats of waste, each one slowly pressed by a hydraulic plate. Tommy, struck once again by the utter ridiculousness that made up this backwards facility, snorted with derision. Beside him, however, Gordon staggered, looking crestfallen.

“It’s okay, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy muttered as he studied the presses. “I think you’ll be fine - this room is OSHA approved.”

Gordon managed to scrape together a response. “To code? To code, like you said?”

Tommy turned his attention to the man beside him. He was weary and haggard, too exhausted to smile, but humor glittered behind the lenses of his glasses as he stared back at him. The fondness flowering in Tommy’s ribs threatened to suffocate him.

He was going to get Gordon out of this nightmare and then he was going to date the hell out of him. Maybe even marry him. Become a second father to his stock photo son. Apocalypse be damned.

They kept moving.

Their path led them through darkened hallways and more vats of sludge. Where was all this shit  _ coming _ from? Gordon had slipped into the substance a few times already, and was rapidly growing delirious, his words stringing out incoherently. Tommy was just beginning to wonder what it would take to physically remove the toxins from his veins without removing all of his blood in the process when Gordon caught him with another question.

“Did you hear anything else?” he asked, referring to the event that rendered him handless.

Tommy crouched thoughtfully in the dark as he gripped his rifle. “Screams after that,” he said. Even remembering the sound sent a chill through him. “But… I think that I - I also screamed.”

He could just barely see Gordon’s face in the glow of the flashlight beam reflecting off the tunnel walls. A worried little crease had formed between his eyebrows, and Tommy resisted the urge to reach out and smooth it over with his thumb. Gordon didn’t need to waste his energy on concern over him. They had a bigger, more blood-related problem right now. 

Gordon didn’t ask him anything after that, so Tommy didn’t answer.

They kept moving.

Tommy would be happy if he never had to swim again. The pressing sheet metal walls and the smell of raw sewage had kind of ruined the experience for him. He hauled Gordon through the water, coercing a current to propel them along.

Gordon chuckled softly as he allowed himself to be carried. “You ever tried to swim with one arm?” he asked.

Tommy rolled his eyes and rewarded him with a smirk.

“It ain’t easy.”

He appreciated the levity, and the fact that Gordon could tell how uncomfortable Tommy was - enough, at least, to crack a joke on his behalf. It was beginning to get to him: the scent of blood and shit and the slimy water sloughing around him and the dead weight of Gordon on his arm and the harsh industrial lighting searing his eyes and -- Tommy wanted to hit pause and catch his breath, it was all so much. But he had to get Gordon out of here first. He had to make sure he was safe.

Tommy pressed on, pulling the man under a submerged barricade and breaking through on the other side. Stopping to rest was not an option. He had anticipated that this would be a hard journey and had steeled himself accordingly.

He did not, however, anticipate the clones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cherry picks dialogue to support my ship* nothing to see here....
> 
> sobs idk how to write Benrey accurately but I really like the idea of Tommy just absolutely ready to destroy him on sight over this. righteous anger is such a wonderful thing i can't get over it.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments werewrhwehwghe yall are too nice to me im glad youre enjoying this wild ass journey ive dragged us through so far


	11. Chapter 11

The past several minutes were piecemeal to Tommy. He could infer what had happened based on the clues around him, but when he tried to recall the actual event occurring, details slipped away, like he was remembering a dream.

The facts were these: he was sitting on the floor. That was good - the floor was solid and he always found lowering his center of gravity stabilized him. Gordon was beside him. This was also good. He was trembling slightly and he looked severely rattled, but had incurred no further injury. Dr. Coomer was there, too, sitting cross-legged in front of them.

And there was another Dr. Coomer laying a few feet away. And another one beyond that. And another. And another. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the room just as much so with the bodies of clones. They were riddled with holes. 

Tommy could connect the dots. He was the only one present who was armed.

What stuck in his memory quite well, however, was the look Gordon gave him after it happened. Frightened and dazed and a little awestruck, pupils blown wide and mouth parted in shock. Tommy wasn’t sure what it meant; whether he had scared Gordon with that act of unbridled violence or if the man was just grateful to still be alive or something else entirely. It was a weighty look. Settled heavily in Tommy’s chest.

Dr. Coomer - the living one, the original - was smiling mildly at them, as if Tommy hadn’t buried two slugs of lead in his chest only moments ago. Tommy stared distractedly at the crimson soaking into his shirt while Gordon pried information out of the scientist. What was his near death experience tally up to now? Double digits, at least. Gordon’s voice was remarkably steady for what he had just gone through, but when Tommy slid his gaze toward him, he noticed how shaky his hands were, how stark the whites of his eyes stood out. He was still very much afraid. 

He wordlessly shifted so that his knee was pressing into Gordon’s leg. Just enough to give him an anchor. His hands were otherwise occupied with his rifle, which he had laid across his knees in a latent threat. Having to murder Dr. Coomer dozens of times had taken a swing at Tommy’s resolve, but he’d do it all over again if it meant keeping Gordon alive. He could carry this burden for him, at least.

Tommy swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away. Now wasn’t the time to lose his composure.

Dr. Coomer, to his credit, seemed relatively unbothered as he answered Gordon’s questions. “Well, Benrey and Bubby have been… whispering for some time about how to handle a problem.” he paused delicately. “I believe the problem is you, Dr. Freeman.”

Gordon was doubtful. “A pro – why am – is it my trackers? The GPS trackers?”

“I think they’re just spiteful,” Coomer guessed.

Tommy snorted. Sounds about right.

“What have I done to th - t-?” Gordon stammered, outraged. “They’re fuc - they’re assholes, man. I don’t - I have like-” he paused, collecting his thoughts. “We’ve all killed people,” he iterated.

“Yes, but we all have our passports,” Coomer pointed out.

“Passport?” Tommy repeated.

Benrey was really fixated on that, huh? He idled over that thought for a moment, wondering if it was all an elaborate stunt to fuck with Gordon or if there was more to it than that.

Dr. Coomer responded congenially. “Passport!”

Beside him, Tommy felt the shaking in Gordon’s leg grow more pronounced. “If I – if it’s-“ he took in a steadying breath, then spat out the rest of his words in frustration. “If this is over a goddamn passport, I will strangle that bald fuck with my own one hand.”

The old scientist’s eyes lit up. “Can I help?”

“Yeah, you could d – you could do the other hand,” Gordon allowed, giving him an appreciative look. “That’d be fun for you, I bet.”

“Exciting!”

Gordon laughed hoarsely. “Yeah, well, at least you can give me a chuckle. Did you know – where’d they go, where are they?”

“Well, I lost them,” Coomer admitted. “I was spending the past few minutes trying to hunt you down and find out where you were. We got separated, you see.” He cast a somewhat bemused look at the bodies littering the floor at the bottom of the stairwell. “I see you encountered my clones.”

“The nightmare,” Gordon echoed hollowly. “I encountered the nightmare.”

Dr. Coomer furrowed his brow in a serious look. “Now, Gordon, it’s only safe to warn you. I felt everything they felt.”

Tommy couldn’t suppress a flinch. He didn’t remember how many bullets he’d fired in the past few minutes, but judging by the carnage it had been quite a lot. Having been shot before, he was intimately aware of how much it hurt to have a bullet rip through one’s body. Trying to reconcile that kind of pain all at once in rapid succession made Tommy unable to meet the scientist’s gaze.

Gordon’s laugh was all nerves. “He was the one that did that,” he clarified, and he gave Tommy’s shoulder a squeeze in an attempt at reassurance. “Just so you know. Tommy killed all of those.”

Coomer was still smiling. “Oh, I’m quite aware,” he remarked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Fine shooting, Tommy!”

Tommy grimaced and didn’t respond. It wasn’t forgiveness, but he’d take it. Gordon rapidly changed the subject.

“Okay. So… do you have any idea what we can do about this?” he asked, gesturing to the stump where his hand used to reside.

Dr. Coomer scratched his jaw contemplatively. “Well, clearly climbing inside of your arm and wearing you like a puppet didn’t work, so perhaps I could help you find… something to help.”

The distant sound of water dripping was all that could be heard for a moment while Gordon paused. “That was the scariest sentence I’ve ever heard,” he finally muttered. “Okay, let’s – s – so let’s go. Yeah.”

Coomer nodded. “Hello, Gordon.”

“Is there – augh, man – Maybe we can h–” he broke off, suddenly remembering. “The Cybernetics Department! Where is that?”

“Oh, I believe it’s next to the Lambda Department,” the old boxer answered.

Gordon’s broad shoulders slumped with relief. “Oh, so it’s on the way,” he sighed gratefully. “Oh my god.”

Tommy finally spoke a full sentence for the first time since they’d sat down. “I know where that is,” he commented. “They – I wandered in there once because they have a lot of cylinders that look like soda cans, but I was told they’re batteries.”

He felt Gordon shake slightly as he let out a soft guffaw. “Did you drink them?” the other man asked expectantly, brows raised, eyes twinkling, cheeks dimpled with humor.

Tommy smiled fondly at him. He could replace the sun with Gordon’s dazzling grin.

“I tried.”

\---

Navigating Black Mesa’s maze of conveyor belts was a headache, but they managed. It took a lot of spatial interference on Tommy’s part to keep Gordon from plummeting to his death every few minutes. His sense of balance was completely shot. At least the mood had somewhat been lightened by Dr. Coomer’s grim joke about the ‘Skull Grinding Facility.’ The old boxer was in much better spirits now that his clones had been eliminated, and while Tommy didn’t necessarily trust him, he at least wasn’t posing an active threat.

He was past the point of finding Black Mesa’s batshit insane experiments humorous anymore. He just wanted to go home.

They inevitably encountered more aliens. Crates full of them. Were they being held here purposefully? He didn’t give himself much time to think about it as he mowed down the creatures, rifle in hand. Coomer flanked him, wreaking havoc with his fists, while Gordon - unarmed, unhanded - very wisely took cover.

“Sucks being helpless, man,” he sighed once the room was still. 

Tough. He could be helpful by taking advantage of that med kit beyond the sliding door. Tommy kept an eye out for any encroaching monsters while Gordon fiddled with the cabinet. He heard him let out a crestfallen exhale.

“It had like, two… fucking seconds of juice left.”

Tommy passed him a snicker. “Two blood?”

“Two blood,” Gordon confirmed, an elastic smile leaping onto his face. “Two CCs.”

“Maybe if we bump the machine, there will be some more hidden in there,” Coomer suggested, quite reasonably, before emitting a startlingly loud shout and hooking a punch at the med kit.

Gordon leapt away from the dent in the metal, but he was laughing.

“Usually that works,” Dr. Coomer intoned, while Tommy’s shoulders shook with amusement.

As they headed down the hall, Gordon’s laughter could still be heard in between footsteps. “Honestly, guys?” he began, a smile in his voice. “Really, I think I - I love you two.”

Tommy’s mouth was halfway open to form a response when he remembered what a collective affirmation was. He bit down on his words. God, how hopeless could he get?

He was saved from having to dwell on that when they encountered Bubby’s cloning tube. Tommy felt a surge of loathing when he saw the prototype encased inside, trapped, pathetic, and oh so guilty. Sure, he couldn’t kill the guy permanently, but he could undoubtedly make his death agonizing.

Something in Gordon’s voice, however, stayed Tommy’s trigger finger. The way he growled, “hey, motherfucker,” low in his throat made his scalp tingle. Bubby looked to Tommy pleadingly, palms pressed against the glass, but he just returned his stare coolly before leaving Gordon to handle it. He deserved his revenge.

“Gordon, I just want you to know-” Bubby began, but Gordon cut him off.

“Do I look any different to you?” he asked, displaying his injury.

The scientist cringed away like it was a brand. “I never told them to do that,” he claimed. “They uh, they fooled me!”

Tommy scoffed. He didn’t want to hear Bubby’s sob story. Siding with Benrey was like cuddling with a cobra, and it was Bubby’s own fault he’d been bitten. Shouldering his rifle, he began poking around the room, tuning out the conversation while Coomer remained at Gordon’s side.

In summary, Bubby pleaded ignorance, managing to assure Gordon that he had been coerced by the entity into betraying him. Tommy was less convinced, but if Gordon wanted him to come along, he’d let him. Dr. Coomer vented some of his frustrations by whaling on the glass for a while, and his disposition was much more agreeable than it had been when they entered. Gordon gave him the go ahead and the boxer hit the release button.

As Bubby, wholly relieved, stepped out of the shattered remains of his tube, Tommy made a point to send him a threatening glare. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be coming along with them at all. But he still tossed the prototype a weapon and half a chance.  _ Slip up and you’re dead _ , his stare told him. Bubby snatched the gun out of the air and gave Tommy a tight-lipped smile. He got the message.

Their progress through the facility was much quicker with an additional team member. They cleared the way ahead for Gordon, who stumbled along after them, leaking out blood. Tommy’s satisfaction with their pace was soured somewhat by the appearance of a skeleton that flickered in and out of his line of sight. So the entity was loose again. Took the lazy way out of spatial entrapment by offing himself, it seemed.

Gordon, visibly shaken by the entity’s presence, suddenly found himself unsteady on his feet. Tommy urged him onward with a reassuring hand at his back, throwing a spiteful look over his shoulder at the skeleton as they went.

\---

A few more hellish sectors brought them to a series of industrial lasers. Tommy stepped thoughtfully from room to room, quickly realizing that this puzzle was essentially just designed to blast through the facility wall. Would be nice if they could just use a door, he thought with some disdain. What an expensive, impractical stunt.

Gordon was woozy and nauseous - a state that probably wasn’t helped when Dr. Coomer had nearly rendered him unconscious with laughter by calling him “Dr. Pussy” a few minutes earlier. While he sagged against a doorway, barely managing not to barf, Tommy elbowed him in an attempt to distract. 

“‘Nother triangle, Mr. Freeman,” he said, indicating the sizable prism being used to refract the laser’s beam.

Gordon gave him a foggy look, uncomprehending. “I don’t think those have to do anything with any of this.”

“I believe they do,” Bubby contended, striding confidently past them into the control room. “I have deduced that lasers can blow a hole in this wall for us to escape.”

Coomer chimed in as he jogged after him. “Gordon, it’s very important that we don’t obstruct the laser shield, as the sign says up here.” 

“I’m going to obstruct it,” Bubby said.

They followed the scientists into the control room. Tommy matched his pace with Gordon’s in case blood loss caused him to lose his footing again. God, he was tired. But Gordon was halfway to death and steadily slipping closer, so there wasn’t exactly a wide margin for rest.

“The power from the triangles will guide us through this,” he quipped, and he was rewarded with a thin, breathy laugh.

“So, hey,” Gordon called to the group. He halted, stationary, in the middle of the room while the rest of them puzzled over the laser. “I lack the mental fortitude to refute anything you say to me. Who wants to be the de facto leader?”

Bubby pounced on the opportunity from where he stood at the console. “Cool. I call dibs.”

“Hey, hey.” Gordon backpedaled immediately. “Wait, wait. No,” he cast a complicated look in Tommy’s direction. “It’s Tommy,” he said, and his voice held the weight of truth in it. “It’s only Tommy. I only trust Tommy.”

Tommy reeled, pressing a hand unconsciously to his chest and feeling his heart beating out a rapid rhythm beneath. He had to grab the coattails of time and yank. Pause everything around him for just a few seconds so he could study that exposed, vulnerable expression on Gordon’s face. It was the same look he had given him after he’d lain waste to Dr. Coomer’s doubles earlier that day - open, fragile, a little wonderstruck. Eyes so deep Tommy thought he might fall into them.

_ It’s only Tommy. I only trust Tommy. _

What a badge of honor. What an indescribable burden. He allowed himself a few moments to stand there, unknotting the emotion in his chest, before finally releasing his hold on time. The Science Team moved on without noticing the interruption. And Gordon’s words pounded in Tommy’s pulse for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I wrote the Coomer Slaughter scene from Gordon's pov in another fic and it gave me so much fucking anxiety I couldn't do it again. my heart was fucking GALLOPING. so like, just imagine Tommy emerging from a fog, taking in the carnage, and numbly murmuring "I killed them all," in haunted realization.
> 
> gordon freeman angry asmr when tho. why'd his voice go all growly. i love it.
> 
> Late act 3 has so many good bits I feel criminal leaving them out but I had to publish this chapter eventually and move the story along. Pls accept this offering of Tommy confronting the mortifying ordeal of being trusted unconditionally as an apology.
> 
> Thank you for the comments! Every message I get in my inbox makes me gain a power level.


	12. Chapter 12

Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before Benrey reappeared, but when the team rounded a corner in the testing sector and encountered two of him, staring back eerily as perfect mirrors, it was sooner than he’d anticipated. Gordon ground to a halt in the stark white hallway, uttering a fearful “nononononono” like it was a mantra at the disquieting spectacle. Tommy moved to take a protective step in front of him when Bubby shouldered aggressively past them.

“Look out, Gordon!” he shouted. “It’s Benrey!”

He unloaded an entire clip into the entity without hesitation. Blood sprayed the walls, the ceiling, the men present.

Bubby whooped. “I got him!”

Dr. Coomer clapped a heavy hand on Bubby’s shoulder. “Fine shooting!”

Tommy wiped crimson from his face and watched in surprise as Benrey’s double, full of lead, dropped to the floor. Okay, maybe Bubby could win back some points after all. He sent the scientist an appreciative look while Gordon swayed deliriously in the wake of the gunfire, murmuring repetitions to soothe himself.

“We can’t kill him. We can’t kill him. We can’t kill him,” he droned. He raised his exhausted gaze to the entity’s face. “Why won’t you die? Please?”

The other Benrey, fully manifested, was pocked with holes but seemed unbothered. He passed a lazy look between the members of the Science Team, landing with a smug raise of his eyebrows on Tommy.  _ Miss me? _

Tommy glared back. He didn’t.

“Gordon,” Coomer said, pointing at the double, “he’s right here on the floor, dead as a doornail.”

Benrey took a casual step forward, making Gordon bristle visibly. “Hey, um, you got one of these?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket and drawing out a very familiar document. 

The passport thing again? Tommy tensed, narrowing his eyes and clocking every move the entity made as he unfolded the license to reveal his identification. The words BENRYBENRYBENRYBENRY marched across the line for his name. Tommy fought the urge to roll his eyes. Asinine. Utterly pointless.

He would ignore the being entirely if Gordon wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown next to him, drawing in thin, shallow breaths as he was confronted with the document. Tommy blinked. This was… really getting to him, huh? He glanced at Bubby and Coomer, who were poised to act, waiting on a cue. Benrey was gloating as he drank in the attention.

Okay. Fine. Tommy knew how to defuse this.

“Here you go, sir,” he intoned sarcastically, producing his own passport from the pocket of his slacks and flipping it open.

The other scientists followed his lead, showing the entity their identification. Gordon, flummoxed, stared numbly between the passports, squinting to read them through his fractured glasses.

“I don’t believe it,” he said. “Were you given those?”

To Tommy’s amusement, Bubby and Dr. Coomer were hamming it up. “Just as requested,” Bubby declared loudly, while Coomer brightly added, “I believe all the paperwork is in order!”

“Please show it now,” Benrey urged.

Gordon was still studying the passports somewhat hazily. “Bubby…” he murmured aloud. “Dr. Coomer, Ph.D…” his gaze swung to Tommy’s ID, eyes tracking across the letters, brow furrowed in incomprehension. Then his expression cleared suddenly and that laugh Tommy had been waiting for came tumbling out of him. “Tommy Coolatta?” he shrilled, ignoring Benrey entirely to give Tommy a look of confused delight. “That’s your last name?”

Tommy grinned back in full force. “Yeah, I’m an orphan,” he explained. “They let me pick my first - my own - my - my last name.” In truth, he’d gotten to pick all of them, but that was beside the point. “But it was - I wa - I was in a Dunkin’ Donuts and I just looked around.”

Gordon nearly doubled over with breathless laughter, and Tommy, still smiling, caught him with a steadying hand under his arm before he collapsed to the floor completely. 

“Oh, how inspiring!” Bubby remarked, humor touching his words.

Dr. Coomer got in on it, too. “It’s important to find small beauty every day.”

Tommy flipped his passport shut with his free hand and slid it back into his pocket. He couldn’t help giving Benrey a challenging smirk as he did. He could try and knock Gordon out of orbit all he wanted; Tommy would pull him back with laughter every time.

Gordon eventually recovered enough from the sucker punch of Tommy’s last name to stand upright. He fixed Benrey with a defeated stare, still uncomfortable with his presence but no longer electric with panic. Tommy unslung his rifle as Gordon addressed the entity again.

“Benrey, I don’t have a passport,” he began. “I don’t-”

“Oh, hey, yo, what hap - oh, man, look,” Benrey cut him off, his tone maddeningly neutral as he flicked a look at Gordon’s injury. “You fucked up.”

Gordon’s mouth hung open in stunned outrage. “Shut - shut - shut up!” he barked.

Benrey only stooped to insult. “What did - what didja do, write your name too many times on the blackboard, idiot?”

Gordon let out a strangled noise, half rage and half disbelief, as he took a staggering step back. “You’re gonna g - you’re gonna kill me. You’re gonna kill me, talk-” his tone dipped and he lost his footing. “I can’t stand up straight.”

Tommy quickly switched his rifle to one arm so he could support Gordon with the other. The symptoms of blood loss were hitting him in waves, and he lurched against Tommy as his bearings left him all at once. 

“We gotta get to the cybernetics lab fast,” he groaned, his head lolling on Tommy’s shoulder.

Benrey had a nauseated look on his face as he shifted his gaze between the two of them. “Calm down, man,” he muttered. “Jeez.”

Gordon shook his head weakly, raising the grievous wound in accusation. “‘Calm down,’ he says. ‘ _ Calm down _ ,’ he says.” his tone was laced with loathing. 

Tommy had to admit he was impressed at how spiteful the man could sound even when he was barely conscious. Benrey schooled his features and ignored him, while Dr. Coomer tucked away his passport and gave Gordon a worried look.

“Gordon, you seem to be losing a lot of blood,” he said. “This can cause things such as,” he began counting off on his fingers seriously, “delirium, exhaustion, death.”

Tommy felt Gordon chuckle weakly against him. “Death,” he repeated, not entirely present.

Coomer exchanged a look with Tommy and grimaced. “Perhaps we should get a move on.”

Perhaps. They were gradually able to coax Gordon into standing on his own two feet. After a few moments to regain his bearings, he was able to push on. Tommy was once again struck by the sheer resiliency of the man - so weak and so breakably human - still moving forward as he walked at the edge of death. He was going to make it out of here, in spite of everything. He deserved that much, at least. 

\---

Benrey fell in line with the rest of the team, his hunger for mischief satiated for now. Tommy caught Gordon eyeing the entity jealously as his bullet wounds miraculously healed over and felt a pang on his behalf. All he could do to help was keep him from getting shot and keep him moving. And pray that there was someone still at the cybernetics department who could fix the mess of bone and tissue that was Gordon’s right arm. 

They traced the hallways, laid out like graph paper, through the testing facility. Gordon’s condition was worsening as he stumbled after them, sing-songing his words in a delirious lilt. At least in this state he was already too far gone for Benrey’s presence to be much detriment - every time he tried to aggravate him, Gordon just responded by politely asking him to die. 

Turns out this sector wasn’t as abandoned as they initially thought. Bubby located a scientist who had somehow evaded both evisceration from aliens and annihilation from infantrymen, which was a miracle in itself, and then the team solicited his help without shooting him on the spot, which surprised Tommy even further. Gordon wearily complimented his companions on their personal growth while they followed the man to the facility door.

“Gordon, I’m learning,” Dr. Coomer declared proudly, which made Tommy giggle silently through his nose.

As their newest ally punched in the code to release the bolt on the exit door, he cautioned the team about the dangers they faced on the other side: most of it military in origin, but the manifested creatures had undoubtedly found their way to the surface, as well. Tommy gripped his weapon in resolve as hot desert wind blew his hair back. He’d already been through three days of hell. He wouldn’t flinch away from more of it if salvation lay on the other side. 

The scientist was midsentence when he froze. Dead stop. Tommy paused, puzzled, until he lifted his gaze and saw the rest of the team standing motionless in their own right. All except Gordon, who had raised his eyebrows in alarm as he noticed the change. 

His mouth was halfway open to ask Gordon if he was okay, but the words died in his throat as a cool, rippling wave engulfed Tommy. It bound his muscles tight. Halted the breath in his lungs. It was a sudden, powerful energy, and it felt…

Familiar. 

He sensed his father’s presence more than he saw it. Tommy was fixated on Gordon - he alone had been left untouched, and dismay flickered across his face as Tommy froze before his eyes.  _ Don’t panic, it’s okay, _ he wanted to tell him, but wasn’t even sure if he’d believe it, himself. He had no idea what his father had come to do, gripping the team’s mobility as he did.

“Gordon Freeman.” His voice was smooth as glass, as always.

Gordon tore his gaze away from Tommy and studied the clean-pressed suit of a man in front of him. His expression was wary, but he was too weakened to consider fleeing in any capacity. Tommy, meanwhile, felt like he’d been punched in the stomach - the tethers in his sinews made him think of blackened hallways and broken cries for help and blood thick on his hands and-

His father’s dress shoes snapped across the tile as he approached. He slid Tomy a glance of acknowledgement, but his attention was primarily on Gordon. “It is good to see you and your companions in such good spirits,” he said. “I’d offer to shake your hand but it seems you’re a little… lacking in that department now, hm?”

As an afterthought, he raised a casual index finger in a near imperceptible gesture. The blood leaking out of Gordon’s wound abruptly stopped.

A current of complicated emotion ran through Tommy at the observation. Why couldn’t  _ he _ do that? Why had his dad waited until Gordon was on the edge of death to pull on the collar of his mortality? Most disquieting, why had he allowed the incident to happen at all? He agonized, motionless, while Gordon gave his arm an unsettled look and said nothing.

His father went on. “I realize the indiscretion of having a conversation at a time like this, but I felt it was important to... talk to you properly before you go any further.”

Only the man in the suit would consider playing space and time like a harp a “proper” conversation, and Tommy could only sit in his frustration while his dad awaited an answer.

Gordon eventually found his voice. “Oka - okay?” he ventured, darting his eyes to his petrified companions. “What have you d - what is happening?”

Tommy’s father cleared his throat delicately. “The Resonance Cascade and its repercussions are merely the prelude to a scheme of events much… grander than you could comprehend,” he explained, maddeningly vague. “You’ve already faced impossible odds, and your prospects going forward will only grow slimmer and slimmer.”

Good one, dad. Real encouraging. Gordon’s shoulders sagged and he uttered a resigned, “Yeah,” that made Tommy’s heart ache.

“Perhaps things would have gone a bit better if you’d remembered to bring your… pass-port, hm?” He flicked an interested look at the entity, standing stock-still at the doorway.

Gordon sucked in a breath. He didn’t respond.

The lecture marched on. “There are some who would say that surrender is your only choice at this point, but I have a vested interest in seeing you succeed, Mr. Freeman. Which is why I will continue to offer my support, as will my,” he paused, giving Tommy another glance, “associates.” His galaxy eyes returned to Gordon. “But the onus of survival ultimately rests upon you.”

That didn’t make the weight of Gordon’s life sit any lighter on Tommy’s shoulders. Yes, the man was bold as a brass band with the tirelessness to match, but he was still human. His reserve of sheer willpower would run dry eventually.

“We’ll talk again soon enough but, until then, I wish you the best of luck in these… dire circumstances.” His father turned to leave, pausing at the last second to cast a somewhat bemused glance between Tommy and Gordon. “Oh, and make sure no harm comes to my... progeny, will you?” he added.

_ Really?  _ Tommy would give his father an offended look if his face could move. Gordon slid his gaze to Tommy and then back to the man in the suit, a bit too delirious, perhaps, to fully follow. Well, at least the blood loss was good for something. 

His father smiled like a wolf, showing his eyeteeth. “You have a long way to go, Mr. Freeman,” he warned him. “As for me, this is where I get off.”

He warped out of the room, breaking the spell that had settled over them. Tommy sucked in a breath and leaned back against the wall, chest rising and falling in the wake of what he’d just learned, while the remainder of the group woke from their stupor, unaffected. Gordon was staring numbly at the place where Tommy’s father had been only moments ago, a disoriented frown tugging at his face.

Bubby fidgeted at the open door. “Why are you just standing there?” he asked.

“I know it’s dangerous ahead, Gordon,” Coomer reasoned, a step behind Bubby, “but we do need to get a move on.”

As Gordon turned to answer them, his dark eyes snagged on Tommy. There was a question on his face, a series of half-expressions following in rapid succession as he parsed through whatever was going on in his head. The man looked so utterly lost that Tommy wanted to reach out and cup his face with both hands, like Gordon had done to him on the day this had all started, and tell him, eyes locked:  _ We’re gonna make it. It’ll be okay. I’m gonna get you out of here.  _

Coward as he was, he didn’t. He could only stare helplessly back. 

Gordon pulled enough resolve into himself in that moment to break eye contact and face the desert. “Okay,” he sighed to the team. “Yeah.”

As they stepped into the searing light of day, hypoxia overtook the scientist who’d opened the door for them and he collapsed onto the floor. Tommy winced. Thanks, dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Gman would remember humans need to Not Be Bleeding to stay alive but forget to allow the only mortal he froze to breathe through that whole talk. Good going, idiot.
> 
> In the latter half of Act 3 I just assume anytime Tommy isn't in frame he's keeping Gordon from fucking collapsing. It just makes sense.
> 
> Thank you as always for the comments!!! I am so happy people are enjoying this. And thank you to the folks who have been letting me bounce ideas off them as I struggle to make this batshit insane series make sense. God I'm dying.


	13. Chapter 13

Tommy had handled everything up to this point with as much grace a demigod could muster. The addition of air assaults from attack helicopters, however, had finally robbed him of words. 

It didn’t happen very often - hadn’t happened in years, really - but once his stress envelope was pushed too far, speech failed him. Too much noise, too much adrenaline, coupled with three days of no sleep and the immediate relief of Gordon’s wound being sealed had done him in. That was fine; he didn’t need to speak to pull a trigger. Not to mention Gordon and Benrey’s bickering was filling the air with enough words for the whole group.

He leaned his elbows against the railing at the top of the dam, catching his breath after downing an Apache, while the rest of the group argued over the control switch in a nearby tower. God, he was so tired. He didn’t necessarily need rest, but it did make his life easier. Every night they’d spent in the facility he’d stayed up to keep watch, or to keep an eye on Benrey, too nervous to sleep. The weariness had settled in his bones and stuck there.

Swimming through the dam’s turbines and emerging on the other side must’ve been the conclusion everyone came to, because Gordon stepped off the tower and took the plunge. Bold and fearless even while missing a hand, Tommy marveled as he watched. He winced when he hit the water several stories down. That can’t have felt good.

Bubby and Benrey followed suit while Tommy remained with Dr. Coomer at the top of the dam, zoning out. The desert brought on a whole new set of challenges, not only in the form of infantrymen and artillery, but also in the hot glaring sun overhead, in the searing sand underfoot. There weren’t any vending machines in the desert. They’d have to stick close to a water source as best as they could, for Gordon’s sake, at least. Tommy didn’t know what sort of enhancements had been given to Bubby and Coomer to prevent dehydration, but the one mortal member of the party surely wouldn’t last long.

“Tommy!” a distant call shook him from his thoughts. 

He tipped his head down and saw the tiny orange dot that was Gordon Freeman, standing on a rock on the edge of the river below and waving his arms. Right, he needed to keep up. He raised a silent hand in acknowledgement, while Dr. Coomer vaulted over the railing and plummeted to the water below without hesitation. Tommy looked away so he wouldn’t have to watch the old man crumple like a coke can upon impact. Yeah, no, he wasn’t making that jump.

A blink later and he was standing beside Gordon and Bubby on the rock. Coomer was unpeeling himself from the bottom of the riverbed while the others squinted at the top of the dam. Tommy cleared his throat.

“Oh, there he is.” Bubby noticed him first. “He’s right here.”

Gordon turned, relief coloring his face. “Oh, you made it.”

Tommy offered him a wordless smile.  _ I’m right behind you. _

The river brought them through more pipes and tight spaces. Dr. Coomer, noticing that Tommy had gone unusually quiet, took it upon himself to keep the mood light as they traversed their new environment. It was a welcome reprieve, considering Benrey was more present and more talkative than he’d ever been before. They crept along through the gutter, flashlights in hand.

“What the hell is the point of this pipe?” Bubby asked.

“I don’t know” Gordon muttered, at the same time Dr. Coomer exclaimed, “This is where they keep the pipes!” sending everyone snickering.

Tommy made sure to give the scientist an appreciative glance when they emerged on the other side. The drone of circling helicopters could still be heard overhead, and they sheltered under an outcropping of red sandstone. Whoever had designed Black Mesa had done it in such a way that the facility looked like it was growing from the earth itself. Would’ve been pretty if it wasn’t getting riddled with shrapnel.

It was this sort of architecture that saved them, ultimately. Dodging the artillery would have been impossible otherwise. The team scurried through tunnels and chasms like rats, darting in and out of firing range as they traversed the unforgiving desert. At one point, Tommy found himself pressed shoulder to shoulder with Gordon behind the sandstone and could feel him shaking through his suit.

Unable to say anything, Tommy shot him a  _ you okay? _ look as he racked his rifle. Gordon swallowed and nodded. The guy put on such an unflappable exterior. It was easy to forget that Gordon was as afraid as Tommy was. 

Not afraid enough, however, to avoid going hand to hand with one of the soldiers they clashed with on a field of sand. Tommy was otherwise engaged, flushing out the infantrymen hiding behind a blind, and could do nothing but watch as Gordon grappled with his adversary several yards away. In the stormcloud of gunfire, he barely caught the soldier’s weapon discharge right next to Gordon’s head as he ripped it out of their hands. Gordon fired one, two, three shots into their helmet and they dropped. 

All was still. While the others searched for a route onward, Tommy made his way over to Gordon, who let the M4 fall limply from his grip into the sand, breathing hard. A mixed swell of emotions was crashing around inside Tommy and he slapped a less-than-gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. His heart was hammering in his ribs.

He locked eyes with Gordon, hoping that the intensity of his stare would convey what he was thinking.  _ Don’t ever do that again. You nearly gave me a damn heart attack. _

Gordon laughed and shook his head apologetically.

Tommy scared him back, unintentionally, when the group wormed their way through a storm drain that emptied out onto a sheer cliff face. Everyone reeled with their own respective amounts of vertigo when they saw the drop. Even Benrey, whose careless facade had begun to chip ever so slightly after they’d run through a minefield, gave the chasm a wary look as he sauntered along the edge, hands in his pockets.

It was a beautiful view, despite the circumstances. The red and orange sandstone stood in proud, looming spires along the canyon. Below, a thin blue river glittered in the beating sun, ribboning through the rock in a way that was both gentle and unyielding. Tommy leaned closer to the ledge, taking in the landscape along with a deep, steadying breath. He allowed himself to have this moment. A few seconds of beautiful scenery in the middle of a war zone.

Gordon’s voice, shrill and startled, drew him back. “Okay, no, y- Tommy, Tommy,” he called.

Tommy turned. Gordon was beckoning him over, pressed against the canyon wall, a naked, fearful look on his face.

“Tommy, come back to me,” he pleaded. “You are too close to the edge.”

He glanced down and realized he was, in fact, mere centimeters away from the cliff’s sheer threshold. As Tommy took a generous step away, more out of consideration for Gordon than his own personal safety, he felt a strong hand grip the sleeve of his lab coat. He looked up and met Gordon’s stare, a nervous cocktail of worried and relieved, the same look Tommy had given him after that soldier nearly shot him.

The thought made Tommy smile. He gently unknotted Gordon’s fingers from his coat, his touch lingering a little longer than was necessary.  _ Of course I’ll come back to you, _ the gesture said.  _ I always will. _

Benrey ruined the moment by daring Gordon to jump. “Maybe I’ll go if you go first,” Gordon shot back, and Tommy left them to argue as he moved on ahead. 

The helicopters shredding the air around them set Tommy’s teeth on edge as they inched along the canyon wall. It was almost a relief to crawl inside another pipe, a welcome escape from the vertigo and the gunfire and the unforgiving sun. They emerged on the other side into a cistern of… something. Too blue to be water. Tommy stood up to his knees in it as his companions slumped, jelly-legged, against the walls. Coomer stretched out flat on his back, floating like he was in a swimming pool.

Benrey sat in the stuff so it was up to his neck. His eyes, usually bright and alert, were heavy with fatigue and a jaded scowl tugged at his mouth. Gordon stumbled out of the pipe last, and Benrey promptly chucked an aluminum can at him. 

“Drink up,  _ buddy _ ,” he hissed. The can bounced impotently off the HEV suit’s armor casing.

Gordon pinned him with an irritable stare as he leaned against the cistern wall. “I’m not thirsty.”

“ _ I’m  _ thirsty,” Dr. Coomer commented in a weary attempt to defuse the hostility.

Benrey ignored him. “Hey, what happened to your arm?” he asked Gordon, crawling his gaze from the man’s face to his wrist.

Gordon’s response was tired. “I wanna kill you. I wanna make you dead.”

Tommy tuned them out as he studied the liquid swirling around his legs. He dipped a hand in it and rubbed his index finger and thumb together, feeling the pull of a sticky residue as he did so. Sugar? Gordon and Benrey’s argument escalated while Tommy touched a curious finger to his tongue. Oh, shit, he knew what this taste was.

As Tommy stood there wondering how the hell a vat of blue Powerade had wound up in the middle of the New Mexico desert, Benrey hauled himself out of the pool and approached Gordon with hostility, his characteristic sneer creeping back onto his face. “Looks like you’re a bit of a - looks like you fucked up there, huh?”

“I hate you,” Gordon ground out. “I hate you with my life.”

“I could drink soda forever,” Dr. Coomer - bless him; Tommy wanted to give him an award for his effort - called from his spot in the corner.

He was still only halfway paying attention, tracing his fingertips in a figure eight through the Powerade and theorizing about what sort of spatial displacement would have warranted this phenomenon. His train of thought was derailed when he caught a strange movement in the corner of his eye. Benrey lunged toward Gordon, interrupting him midsentence, and Tommy tensed, preparing for violence.

Gordon caught the entity with his good hand and pushed him gingerly backward, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. “Did you just try to kiss me?” he asked.

Tommy blinked, flicking a glance at Benrey. Did he? He hadn’t looked up in time to see. The entity stared back sullenly and a heavy, awkward pause settled over the group. Powerade sloshed in the wake of their movement.

Gordon passed a perplexed look to Tommy. To verify what happened? To gauge his reaction? Tommy raised and lowered his shoulders in a miniscule shrug. He wasn’t sure how he felt - how he was  _ allowed  _ to feel - about the entity advancing on Gordon. It wasn’t like Tommy had any claim to the man, and the action was as far from reciprocated as it could possibly get.

Benrey’s bored expression gave away nothing. It was... still rude, all things considered. Tommy was at least a little disgruntled on Gordon’s behalf, but he tried to keep this expression from showing on his face. Maybe he could pass it off as discomfort from the Powerade soaking into his socks.

Bubby finally broke the silence, impatient to get a move on. “Benrey, you’ll just have to kiss him after we leave,” he said.

“Save the-” Gordon nudged Benrey back until he was a generous arm’s length away. “Save the lovin’ for later,” he intoned awkwardly.

“You’ll just have to kiss Dr. Freeman after the test,” Coomer added, in the same tone with which one would say, “That’s never going to happen,” and Gordon turned away, laughing. 

He sloshed through the pool past Tommy to move on, reaching out and skating his palm from his elbow to his wrist as he went. Tommy suppressed a shiver, unable to keep himself from feeling like the touch was a promise.

“Do you feel stronger being here?” he asked, the sensation finally knocking the words out of him.

Gordon paused and looked back. “Stronger?”

“This is where they make the Powerade,” Tommy said, playfulness broadening across his face. 

Humor and bewilderment danced in Gordon’s eyes. “Oh, this isn’t water?” he asked. He skimmed a hand across the surface. “Do we manufacture Powerade?”

“Now, Gordon, it’s a common misconception that we’ve been putting fluoride in the water,” Dr. Coomer spoke up, giving Tommy a delighted grin at his return from silence. “Secretly we’ve been replacing it with Powerade!”

Tommy returned the scientist’s smile genuinely. 

\---

After thoroughly hydrating themselves, the group climbed out of the cistern into some sort of military compound. Tommy guessed by the sandbags and haphazard razor wire that this was a forward operating base, a temporary setup with the intent to clear out quickly. He’d be worried about the tanks if Dr. Coomer didn’t completely annihilate the first one they saw with a single hit.

It was the same dance they’d been performing all day. Run, shoot, hide. Provide cover fire for your buddy. Grit your teeth against the explosions and the shrapnel. Survive, survive, survive. 

Tommy wondered if they could sue Black Mesa for permanent hearing damage. Alongside psychological trauma and grievous mortal injury. Add it to the list.

The compound was mazelike in nature, and the group was turned around more than one time trying to make their way through. Gordon, rapidly losing steam in the relentless blaze of the sun, glanced tiredly around at the concrete walls while sweat ran down his face.

“Which way should we go?” he asked, eyes landing on Tommy. “Like I said, you’re de facto leader.”

Oh, he had been serious about that. Tommy cast his eyes around for a way forward and caught a route they hadn’t tried yet. He vaulted over a fallen steel beam and kept going, trusting the others to follow.

Gordon did so without hesitation. “Okay, Tommy’s picking that way,” he called to the team.

“I don’t know why the child gets to lead us,” Bubby grumbled, tagging along begrudgingly.

Tommy opened his mouth to utter a retort, but Gordon beat him to it. “He’s thirty six!” he snapped.

“A mere child,” Bubby insisted.

Coomer was shaking his head at him. “He’s very brave,” he said.

Was he? Right now he was just tired, numbed by the combat, scoured on all sides like a stone in a tumbler. His rifle was heavy in his hands as he methodically filled soldiers with bullets. He didn’t feel brave at all.

Benrey displayed one of his fastest regenerations yet, perishing in a mine explosion and appearing mere minutes later on the roof of the building they were scaling. Tommy shot him a perplexed look, searching for an explanation, but Benrey merely trapped his tongue between his pointed teeth and winked in reply.

Once they were certain the area was clear, they hunkered down in a storage room, away from the glaring sun and the helicopter blades, to rest. Gordon slid against the wall and down to the floor, utterly beat. Tommy spared a glance at the ruin that was his arm. It didn’t look any worse - whatever his father had done, it was at least keeping the wound from siphoning away Gordon’s life - but it was still a place where a hand should be that a hand was not. 

He felt a brief bloom of anger in his stomach, remembering the person responsible was in this very room with them. Along with… a skeleton, for some reason. It mirrored the entity’s movements like a rattling doppelganger.

“Hey, hey,” Gordon spoke up woozily. “Can we have someone on medical watch? Can one of y - if I start convulsing in my sleep, I need one of you to wake me up. I don’t know if I’m gonna wake up from this.”

Before Tommy could assure him that he was always on watch, Benrey approached Gordon, shoulder to shoulder with the skeleton and passport in hand. “Where’s yours?” he asked. A crossbow was cradled in his free arm, pointed in a casual threat at Gordon.

The man stared fearlessly back. “I give up,” he told him, acid in his voice. “I’m gonna go to bed. And if you shoot me in the head while I’m asleep? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

Tommy would care, and he made it known by the dangerous glare he pierced Benrey with. The entity ignored him and turned away while Gordon leaned his head back against the wall, sleep already taking him.

“Goodnight, guys,” he murmured. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

Tommy pressed his back to the cold concrete, rifle across his knees, to wait things out until morning. He was steadily growing used to the man beside him saying that every night. Gentle voice thick with drowsiness, long eyelashes fluttering shut. He rubbed the side of his face, willing himself not to fantasize and failing.

One day, when this was all over, they could have this.

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know they cut the scene because the mod glitched when it happened but can we talk about how Gordon went up against a soldier, unarmed, and won??? the TENACITY.
> 
> Tommy goes nonverbal for like, the entire rest of the act so god bless Dr Coomer for bearing the comedy load while the man recovers. He deserves a break.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who encouraged me through this chapter, which attempted to kidnap and kill me while I was writing it. I owe u my life.


	14. Chapter 14

They were moved in the middle of the night. Tommy saw it - felt it - happen, from his silent watch against the wall in the storage room. The air shimmered and warped like heat off blacktop. A feeling of weightlessness followed, a suspension of the self, unbecoming and particulating in a different place. The group solidified on an elevator lift in some kind of warehouse and the air around them went still and silent. Tommy shook out his hands to dispel the latent feeling of having his atoms rearranged.

Benrey jolted awake, startled, and snapped his gaze around the room. When his eyes met Tommy’s, pupils wide and feral, Tommy could only shrug in return. Wasn’t his doing. He guessed his father had given them a nudge - perhaps not in the right direction, but in the direction he wanted them to go. 

The rest of the team remained undisturbed. Benrey sat up, crossing his legs at the ankles and drawing his knees up to his chest. He stared at Tommy across the sleeping forms of their companions, the steady in and out of their breathing the only sound to be heard. Tommy had been monitoring Gordon’s in particular, but apart from some murmuring through unpleasant dreams, he at least seemed stable. He met Benrey’s gaze passively, tolerant of his presence aside from his hands on his rifle.

“Can I help you?” he finally asked.

Benrey quirked his mouth in an indecipherable expression. “Nah.”

“You - you’re just gonna stare at me,” he replied. He’d played this game before. “Okay.”

A few seconds passed, and the entity spoke, as Tommy knew he would.

“You stare at  _ him _ .” he pointed out, jerking his chin toward Gordon. 

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “So he doesn’t die in his sleep,” he replied. “Because someone,” he shot him a steely look, “cut off his hand a day ago and he nearly bled out.”

“Whatever, dude.” Benrey blew out a breath. “You’re obsessed with him.”

Tommy would have outright laughed if he didn’t despise the entity so much. Instead, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, which he immediately regretted on account of how greasy his fingers came away. He’d kill for a shower. “Okay, passport guy,” he muttered, rubbing his fingertips idly together and feeling the grit that had settled there.

Benrey only mocked him back in a babying tone. Fair. Tommy should have known better by now than to engage in conversation with the guy. Curiosity chewed at him, though, so he risked it again.

“Why - w - what’s the deal with that?”

“Huh?”

“The passport thing. Why are yo-”

“People need their passports,” Benrey interrupted him, shrugging. He uncurled himself from his sitting position and let his legs stretch out, leaning back on the heels of his hands. He gnawed on his lip absently. Tommy wondered how he didn’t draw blood doing it. “He doesn’t have his passport. He shouldn’t be here.”

“Wh-” Tommy paused as another question occurred to him. “Do you know what a passport is?” he asked, arching an eyebrow delicately. “Do you know what one is for?”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Do you know when to stop asking idiot questions, idiot?”

“So you don’t know.”

Benrey snapped his teeth together like a bear trap. Tommy racked his rifle in response. The air between them was taut as they stared each other down in silence. 

This particular car crash of a conversation was interrupted by the scientists stirring from their sleep, and both demigod and entity backed down from one another. Live to threaten grievous bodily harm another day. There were more important matters at hand.

\---

The room they descended to in the cybernetics department was… not what Tommy remembered it being.

It was still the same room. It had the same panel of electronics on the wall. And he was almost certain that analog clock had always been there, but that was where his familiarity ended. The shelves had been cleared of biological research materials, replaced instead with vials of liquid in a delightful array of colors. The far wall held a desk and a computer, and a lab station had been set up in the middle. 

An unfamiliar voice floated over to them. “Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three unique flavors! I can’t wait to show them this.”

Had they moved the department? Tommy stood behind Gordon on the elevator lift, craning his neck to get a look at the only individual who seemed to work here. He seemed more relaxed than the rest of the employees they’d encountered, tinkering with something at the lab station with a detached poise. Tommy’s eyes caught a barrel of Powerade mix on the shelf behind him. Maybe he had something to do with the strange desert phenomenon.

Gordon glanced back at his companions. “Fuck is he saying?”

The man looked up from his work, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise at the group’s appearance. Tommy observed the contents of the lab station, a perplexing mix of chemistry equipment and everyday household items, wondering what he was working on. The man idly cut off the gas line to the Bunsen burner while he watched them expectantly.

“Hey,” Gordon said, waving. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Bubby added.

“Hey,” the man answered, his voice only a touch wary as he removed the safety glasses from his face, folded them neatly, and set them on the surface of the lab table.

“How’s it - how’s it going?” Gordon asked.

“Uh. Alright,” the man answered. “Been here for about… three days.”

The man introduced himself as Darnold. An odd name, maybe, but Thomas Coolatta, Ph.D, wasn’t exactly in a position to judge. He was unusually calm for someone barricaded in his own office for the past three days, and he surveyed the group that had dropped in from his ceiling with a contained sort of curiosity. Tommy eyed him carefully. He didn’t have an ounce of blood on his clothes.

Gordon quickly gave up on social etiquette, striding straight up to the man and demanding answers. Tommy didn’t blame him - this department was supposed to be his salvation, the only bastion against a slow death by infection. Now there was just this guy and a table full of soda cans. Or, what Tommy assumed were soda cans. He flitted his gaze over Darnold’s research with interest while Bubby and Dr. Coomer crowded around the table with him. Benrey, already bored with the conversation, began poking through the office.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Darnold warned, placing himself between Gordon and the lab station. It was the first sign of alarm he’d expressed since the team entered the room. “You gotta step away from my research.”

Gordon stopped in his tracks, perplexed. “That’s research?”

Darnold collected himself in a cool, practiced way that Tommy himself knew quite well. He inched Gordon backward until he was a healthy distance from his equipment. “This is not soda,” he explained. “This is not a fine wine - I know what it says. This is not milk.”

Tommy could see by the fogginess in Gordon’s stare that he was lost. “Okay,” he uttered.

Darnold straightened his tie. Smoothed over his lab coat. “I am in charge of the mixology department,” he informed them.

“Mixology…” Gordon responded dimly. “I thought this was supposed to be the cybernetics department. I thought you guys-” he interrupted himself to throw a verifying glance in Coomer’s direction. “Dr. Coomer, you said the cybernetics department was on the way to the Lambda Lab.”

“Absolutely, Gordon,” the scientist affirmed, nodding.

Light dawned on Darnold’s expression. “Oh, cybernetics,” he said. “The cybernetics department. Uh, they  _ were _ here,” he reasoned, passing a look around the room. “They got their funding cut after their ill-fated Cyber Mutt project.”

“Such a shame,” Coomer intoned, while Gordon sent a flabbergasted look to his teammates.

“Well this is a nightmare,” he grumbled, but his expression brightened somewhat as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, wait wait, wait. You said their funding got cut?” he asked. “You said their  _ funding _ got  _ cut _ ?” He began gesturing to his arm, teeth flashing in a pained smile. 

Tommy winced. At least he was feeling well enough to have a sense of humor about it.

Darnold seemed to just now notice the injury. “Oh, your hand is missing,” he remarked, the faintest hint of revulsion tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He studied Gordon’s stump more like it was a fascinating specimen than the final resting place of a functional appendage, leaning as close as he could without touching the thing. Tommy watched the chemist as he investigated, unsure of how he felt about him. He was a polite enough guy, but there was no way someone had spent three days in isolation while the world ended outside without loosening a few screws. That calm exterior undoubtedly hid something, but Tommy couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

Benrey had found himself a perch atop an industrial steel barrel, and he launched a harsh laugh across the room. “Yeah you fucked up!” he called, clambering down to jostle Darnold’s shoulder. “Yo he fucked up,” he told him. “He lost his arm. Like an idiot.”

Darnold ignored the entity, his focus homed in on the end of Gordon's arm. “Is that - is that some green in there I see?” he asked.

“That’s probably the sewage. And the sepsis.” Gordon sighed. 

“That’s not good.” Darnold murmured to himself, scratching his chin pensively. “Y'know… How long have you had that off?”

Gordon blew out an exhausted breath. “I don’t know. How long has it been, a day?” he cast a glance at Tommy for confirmation. “A day and three hours, give or take?

Darnold straightened, rolling his shoulders back as if he had made a decision. “Studies show that the longest you can live without your hand is a day and  _ four _ hours,” he told Gordon, the edges of his mouth tilting upward in a near invisible smile. “I think we need to help ya out.”

Okay, never mind, this guy was cool. Tommy could see on his face that he was well-intentioned; he was likely just on guard about having five strangers drop through his ceiling. Not to mention that excellent jest, handcrafted and subtle was the work of a master.

Tommy was about to give the man an appreciative nod when a loud clatter pulled his attention away. A few yards off, Benrey had drifted back over to the storage shelves and begun knocking items to the floor like a cat. Tommy rolled his eyes. The entity had to get the attention he craved  _ somehow,  _ he guessed. 

“Oh, shit!” Gordon exclaimed, laughing. “Wait, so it’s not about the blood loss, it’s about the lack of a hand? Like, your body just shuts down?”

Darnold’s smile widened. “Yeah.”

“That’s just weird.”

“Don’t ya know this?” Darnold asked, cheekiness beginning to shine through his expression. “You’re a scientist, aren’t you? This is what they teach you in every doctorate. It’s a part of every Ph.D.”

Tommy covered his mouth with his hand and turned away to hide his amusement.

“Gordon, I hope you haven’t been lying about your diploma,” Dr. Coomer interjected from across the lab table.

Gordon was about to fire off a response when a wave of pain rolled over him. He tucked his stump in close, gritting his teeth. “You - you said you were the mixology head,” he ground out. “Not the - how do you know about this? Why do you - like - you don’t know anything about my arm more than I do. It’s my arm, man, I think I know best.”

“Because - because, I’ll tell you,” Darnold said gently, holding his palm out toward Gordon in a gesture of peace. “I have been working on a top secret project. It’s a potion.”

Tommy had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter in check. “That isn’t just the Powerade?” he asked.

“A potion?” Gordon repeated. He glanced at Tommy again, searching for some kind of anchor amid uncertainty. “Who is this clown?” he asked.

A comedy genius, Tommy wanted to answer, but he instead settled on giving Gordon an approving nod.  _ He’s okay, _ he told him with his eyes. Darnold actually seemed alright. Seemed like he wished them well, a rare occurrence on their road trip through the hellscape that was Black Mesa.

And if he didn’t? Well, Tommy could take care of that, if needed.

“Yes, a potion,” Darnold went on. “What do you think mixology is, mister-” he faltered. “I don’t know what your name is,” he admitted. Mild embarrassment wrinkled the chemist’s brow, which Tommy found funny, considering that they were the ones who had so rudely neglected to introduce themselves.

“My name’s Dr. Freeman,” Gordon said. “Dr. Gordon Freeman.” he turned with a sweeping gesture to the rest of the party, scattered in their own right around the room. “These are my compatriots,” he explained. “This is Dr. Bubby.”

“Hello,” Bubby said distractedly as his eyes wandered the equipment on the far wall.

“This is Dr. Coomer.”

Coomer offered a congenial wave. “Hello.”

“This is,” Gordon paused for only a millisecond, but Tommy didn’t miss the way his expression softened as he said, “Tommy.”

He smiled at Gordon fondly before giving Darnold a polite inclination of his head. 

“I’m not even going to introduce the other guy,” Gordon grumbled. “I don’t even think he’s in the room anymore, I wasn’t watching him.”

Benrey had migrated away from the storage shelves and was fiddling with the laptop on Darnold’s desk. “I found a torrent of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas on this computer,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Gordon frowned in concern. “I think he’s going to delete all your files.”

Darnold, unbothered, flapped a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Can you seed that for me, please?” he called to the entity. “Anyways, Dr. Freeman.”

He bobbed his head in an affirmative nod. “That’s me.”

“You’ve disrespected my potions,” he said, giving Gordon a significant look. “Which I don’t like. But a scientist can’t live happily knowing that somebody’s had their hand off for a day and three hours.”

Gordon gave his arm a despondent glance. “Mmyeah.”

“So, this is what I’m going to do,” he continued. “I’m gonna make use of my top-secret, government funded, extreme, delicious potion. I’m gonna give you some, because it has secret regenerative properties unknown to man.”

So, like Pedialyte? Tommy studied the chemist’s expression, trying to parse what he meant by ‘regenerative properties.’ He detected no subterfuge on the man’s face, and his voice held sincere concern, even if it was professionally contained and wrapped up in a joke. Perhaps this ‘potion’ was a risk, but it was a risk Darnold believed would help.

“Unknown to man?” Gordon echoed as he followed Darnold to another steel barrel near the lab station

Incidentally, Dr. Coomer had chosen that barrel as a seat. Darnold frowned at the boxer while Coomer smiled blankly back.

“Please don’t sit on the potion,” Darnold told him.

Coomer hastily dismounted the barrel, sending it rattling sideways and rolling along the floor. Darnold let out a huff, frustration pulling his brows in as he knelt to heft the barrel in his arms. “You knocked the damn potion over,” he muttered, carrying his cargo to rest its weight on the lab table, spout facing downward.

“It’s probably fine,” Dr. Coomer said sheepishly.

Tommy couldn’t help but find the situation funny, from Darnold’s sheer display of strength while he tried to contain his irritation to the absurd size of the barrel in his arms to his unshakeable dedication to the ‘potion’ bit. He watched the exchange with half his attention, the other half following Benrey as he circled the lab like an understimulated animal in an enclosure.

Meanwhile, Gordon’s voice had gone shrill as he realized what he was about to do. “Are you tellin’ me I gotta - is that full?”

Darnold tugged at his lab coat to pull out the wrinkles, balancing the barrel with his free hand. “I tried to put it in beakers, and I only had… three,” he said. “And they all melted when I put the potion in them. But, this is okay.” he slapped his hand on the container in reassurance.

Gordon’s volume climbed and he began to protest, but Tommy spoke up, interrupting him before his elevated pulse could push the poison in his blood any closer to his heart.

“Trust him Mr. Freeman, he made the Powerade earlier.”

“The Powerade was pretty good,” Gordon admitted, turning in Tommy’s direction to search his gaze.

He didn’t know what to believe, who to trust, besides Tommy. He had to remember that. Gordon was following Tommy’s judgment like he was a ship about to wreck, and Tommy couldn’t leave him to smash on a rocky shoreline for the sake of a few jokes. He offered the man a comforting smile. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.

Darnold was still attempting to cut the tension with a little humor as he balanced the barrel on the table. “Now, I’m holding it at the proper potion sipping angle, so just break out your Black Mesa official silly straw and get to slurpin,’ okay?”

Tommy snorted. “What flavor is it?”

“It’s brown flavor!” Darnold shot back with a grin.

Benrey had stopped pacing the room and was now leaning his back against one of the shelves to watch. He caught Gordon’s eye and ran his tongue along the razor line of his teeth. Tommy honestly couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a sign of approval.

Gordon wasn’t sure, either, turning to Darnold with a bit of nervousness. “Hey,” said, leaning in close. “Before you ask me questions about any of this: one, I don’t have a passport. Two, I don’t have a Black Mesa silly straw. Three, I don’t know anything.”

Darnold blinked mildly at the interruption, angling his head away from the sudden closeness and shooting the science team a perplexed look.

“He doesn’t even have his silly straw,” Coomer commented unhelpfully between giggles.

The chemist sighed. “We can work with this,” he said, pushing Gordon delicately back with his free hand. “Here, I’m still holdin’ it at the proper angle. Now, just put your mouth on it, and… get to… suckin.’” 

Tommy could tell he immediately regretted his phrasing by the grimace that tightened his mouth.

“He should!” Benrey jeered from his spot against the shelving unit. “Gordon knows how to suck and he does it well.”

As Tommy fought the impulse to gag, Gordon stabbed his finger threateningly in the entity’s direction. “Don’t you tell me what I know about suckin,’ buddy!”

“Gross!” Bubby interjected.

At least without the silly straw it was less like watching the world’s worst beer bong and more like watching the world’s worst shotgun. Reminded Tommy of his college days. Gordon made it through a few swallows before he collapsed onto the tile floor, making a horrible, gut-wrenching sound.

Tommy practically materialized next to Darnold, gripping his upper arm in a warning and ignoring the stares from the rest of the science team. He couldn’t tell if the look the chemist gave him was startled because of Gordon’s condition or Tommy’s sudden proximity.

“What’s it doing to him?” Tommy asked in a low voice. 

“Uh, well, from what I’ve gathered, it’s like a month long juice cleanse in the span of five minutes,” Darnold explained, flitting a glance between Tommy and the man lying prone on the floor. He was smart enough to connect the dots. “It doesn’t feel great, but he should be fine,” he assured him, with gentle confidence. “Toxin free.”

After a moment of processing, Tommy released him, choosing instead to fold his arms thoughtfully across his chest and monitor Gordon’s status while the man keeled on the floor, groaning. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Darnold trying not to wince as he rubbed his arm. 

They watched Gordon in silence for a few moments before Darnold ventured a question. “When was the last time his suit was charged?”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to remember. “A - uh - a day ago? Two maybe?”

“There’s a charging station on that wall,” Darnold said, nodding in that direction. “Let’s get him over there while he’s…” he paused, frowning while Gordon convulsed. “Going through it.”

Together, they wrestled Gordon across the room and hooked his suit up to the device. It beeped softly and took on a charge. Gordon didn’t resist, letting out a pained moan as his head lolled against the wall.

“Tastes like brown, tastes like green…” he murmured. “It tastes like most colors.” 

Yeah, this was definitely reminding Tommy of his college days. He crouched beside him, watching carefully for any signs of his condition worsening, while Darnold stood to his full height.

“Brown is supposed to taste good,” he remarked, earning himself a thin laugh from Tommy.

He decided he liked Darnold. He was funny, and he had dropped what he was doing to help them, despite the fact that they were all, well, the way that they were. Ragged and chaotic and just to the left of coherent. Darnold met them all graciously with that carefully contained sense of humor, and for that he was thankful. Tommy hoped they were able to seal the rift before any sort of creature got its teeth in the guy.

Tommy remained by Gordon’s side while Darnold turned to converse with Bubby and Dr. Coomer. As the concoction worked its way through Gordon’s bloodstream, the wound drained out a colorless fluid and began rapidly scabbing over. A medical marvel, really, Tommy thought as he watched it heal. Lifesaving technology. He wondered bitterly how long Black Mesa had been sitting on this research, how many people around the world needed something like this. Keeping it hidden away in a bunker was such a waste.

The HEV suit beeped again, indicating it had hit full charge. Tommy steadied Gordon with one hand as he slumped over, breathing heavily. With his other hand, he gently rotated Gordon’s severed wrist so he could access the control panel beneath. He didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with one of these, but he guessed the suit at least needed to recalibrate. Tommy hit the button.

Recalibrate it did. The suit’s internal computer must’ve interpreted Gordon’s lack of a hand as a need for some sort of substitute, and it whirred out lines of tubing and protective metal casing around the area. Tommy watched, fascinated, keeping a solid grip on Gordon’s shoulder to hold him upright. He had settled down somewhat at this point, the pain leaving his body as the newly charged suit flooded him with morphine. 

Where there used to be a hand, there was now what looked like a sized-down gatling gun, flanking Gordon’s forearm with five identical barrels. There was no place to feed a magazine, and Tommy wondered distractedly how much of the suit’s real estate was taken up by rows and rows of ammunition within the exterior casing. 

Gordon let out a confused grunt as the fog in front of his expression began to clear. When his gaze fell to his own arm, Tommy felt his shoulder go rigid in shock.

“Huh? Whoa. Whoa, what is this tube?” he demanded. “What is that?”

Their attention drawn by Gordon’s outburst, the scientists wandered back over to investigate. Three pairs of curious eyes stuck on the barrel on the end of the man’s arm. Benrey, settled in the chair at Darnold’s desk, didn’t even bother to look over.

Dr. Coomer gave his mustache a thoughtful scratch. “I think that’s your hand,” he finally said.

Gordon sent a questioning look to Darnold. “You told me this would regenerate my hand. What is this?”

“Is that not what your hand looked like before?” Darnold asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Fully alarmed now, still a touch disoriented, Gordon scrambled to his feet. As Darnold began calmly explaining the bizarre prosthetic and its functions, Tommy circled around behind Gordon and began unhooking the HEV suit from the charger before he forgot he was attached to it and tried going anywhere.

He was tuning out the conversation as he carefully undid the clasps, so when the gun extension on Gordon’s arm fired off a staccato of rounds, Tommy leapt back, startled. 

He wasn’t the only one - the entire room was taken aback by the firepower Gordon’s new weapon possessed. Save for Benrey, who was bored as usual, and Darnold, who appeared more intrigued than alarmed. The chemist crossed his arms and studied the gun, brows knitted as he puzzled through the mechanics.

“This… really is like your hand,” he began. “You just uh - did… You just fired your fingernails from your fingertips.”

Not a bad metaphor, Tommy allowed, but Gordon was ever the literal one, his judgement a little shaken by the forcible purge of toxins from his blood. “No,” he argued, glancing at the science team for help. “Right? No. Please back me up.”

“Why do you think my hand’s always in a fist?” Bubby reasoned. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

It was so rare Bubby willingly made a joke that Tommy almost forgot to laugh. 

“You said I’m shooting my fingernails,” Gordon insisted, turning to Darnold. “I’m s’posed to have only five of those. In fact, my fingernails should be gone-”

“Gordon, I believe most people have ten of those,” Coomer corrected. 

“Fingernails can grow pretty fast,” Tommy added as he unhooked the final cable from the suit. 

The man was nervous, for good reason, and now probably wasn’t the most appropriate time to make light of his predicament, but Tommy was so relieved Gordon wasn’t going to die of blood poisoning that he truly couldn’t help himself. 

Gunshots peppered the room while Gordon oriented himself with the new extension. Tommy remained by the charging station, coiling the cables around his arm and hanging them neatly back on the rack. Next to him, Benrey’s eyes were glazed over as he tacked randomly at the keys on Darnold’s laptop. 

“Is the internet working?” Tommy asked, sliding the panel shut on the charging station.

Benrey gave a narrow shrug. “I dunno, I’m playin’ TF2.”

Tommy circled behind him and glanced at the screen. “That’s Minesweeper.”

“I’m installing the Pyro update,” Benrey insisted. 

His tone was even, but Tommy could see flames flickering between the entity’s fingers in a subtle threat. He sighed and left him alone. 

Tommy rejoined the rest of the group just in time to see the south wall become pimpled with bullet holes. Damn, that little gun had some kick. Gordon reeled backward, panting and looking more clear-eyed than he had in the past couple days. It was good to see him steady on his feet.

“I’ve increased your fingernail effectiveness by ten thousand percent,” Darnold commented, a touch impressed, with a smile on his mouth so small you’d miss it if you weren't looking.

God, this guy was funny. Chill as hell, too. Tommy wondered if he had been the one to put those bullshit posters up in the break room. Hard to believe that was earlier this week and not an entire lifetime ago.

With Gordon healed and recharged, they thanked the chemist for his hospitality and prepared to push on. Tommy was hesitant to leave. This was the only real reprieve they had gotten all week - the room was safe, the company was enjoyable, and a weight had been lifted from Tommy’s shoulders knowing that Gordon was no longer actively dying on his watch. He approached Darnold gratefully while Gordon wrestled Benrey out of the office chair before he could pour more soda on the keyboard.

“What’s the next flavor of Powerade?” Tommy asked, eyebrows raised in a humorous challenge.

Darnold’s smile rose to meet it and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, well, I shouldn’t tell you this,” he said, humor sparkling in his black eyes. “But we’re working on an evil flavor.”

“My favorite,” Dr. Coomer interjected while Tommy giggled.

It felt good to laugh, to have something silly to focus on while the world turned further and further on its ear. Darnold’s lab was a cheerful sanctuary, a final stop before their journey’s end. Tommy was still exhausted from running and fighting for days, clawing with desperate hands for a way out of this nightmare. This guarded rest, however, this brief repose, made him think that they just might make it in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, rewriting this entire fucking scene so I don't have to acknowledge the existence of Gun Arm: I will take a hammer and FIX the canon
> 
> Darnold is such a homie I love this dude. His scene, however, was so chaotic I had to cut dialogue like I was making a paper snowflake. I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> Thanks for waiting longer than usual for this longass chapter! I appreciate the kind words you've all been sending my way - they really encourage me to keep working on this stupidly ambitious project. As long as people are reading it I'll keep writing it!


	15. Chapter 15

Before they departed, Darnold was nice enough to let the team take a few things from his lab. At least, Tommy hoped it was out of wanting to be helpful rather than wanting them to leave faster. Gordon had shot Benrey point blank right in front of him, after all. Hilarious and relatively benign to the rest of them, but Tommy didn’t miss the flicker alarm in the chemist’s eyes.

The crates shoved in the corner were left behind when the cybernetics department folded, according to Darnold. While they pawed through the containers’ contents, they discussed the situation with him. He was aware of something wrong going on outside, but as soon as he’d gotten wind of an experiment gone awry, he’d done the smart thing and barricaded himself in his office. He’d even rigged the explosives up top, himself. Darnold had worked here long enough to know that when things went bad at Black Mesa, they went  _ bad. _

“If you come with us, you’re gonna have to kill like, twenty people. Probably more,” Gordon had reasoned, which made the chemist throw up a wall of sarcasm about two feet thick.

“Well, killing can’t be that hard, right?” he’d said, nervously, and that was when their hustle out the door began.

Bubby and Coomer both found new weapons within the crates. When Bubby experimentally pulled the trigger, Tommy felt the snap of his form leaving the plane like a rubber band breaking. As Tommy blinked, orienting himself to the space around him settling into the change, Bubby blinked right back in, snapping Tommy again. He winced. Maybe they shouldn’t use that gun too often.

Bubby agreed, looking a little shell-shocked from his journey. He stowed his weapon while Dr. Coomer extracted a firearm with a barrel as long as a man from the crate.

“Gordon I found it!” he shrilled excitedly. “The big one!”

Tommy didn’t know why Coomer needed such a gargantuan gun when he had two perfectly good ones attached to either shoulder. He himself was perfectly content with his rifle, surefire and reliable, and his eyes passed over the other weapons in the crate with disinterest. The soda cans were disappointingly void, as well. He was about to withdraw emptyhanded when a cheerful splash of color caught his eye. Tommy cleared away some of the junk to reveal the most wonderful hat he’d ever seen.

Holy shit, this was a stupidly good find. He straightened, cap in hand, and flicked the propellor. Delightful. What an ironic clash of themes. How would Tommy look, charging dirty and bloodied through Black Mesa, rifle in hand, with this thing on? 

He guessed he was about to find out. He placed the cap on his head. God, it fit so well, too. Tommy fought his smile down as he loitered beside the container, watching Gordon conversing animatedly with Coomer. 

The man looked the best Tommy had ever seen him. Excluding their first time meeting in the break room, a lifetime ago. He was clear-eyed and alert, his voice strong and full, gesturing with a renewed energy as he spoke. The gut-wrenching worry Tommy felt every time he laid eyes on Gordon had been replaced by a gentle warmth. He looked good. Tired, but healthy.

Gordon caught him staring, and a half second later he caught the hat on his head, too. Eyes alight, he joined him beside the crate, grinning and showing off those dimples Tommy was so fond of.

“That-” Gordon reached up to flick the propellor, sending it spinning crazily. “Nice,” he said.

Placing a splayed hand under his own chin, elongating his neck and tilting his head like a model, Tommy arched his eyebrows dramatically at Gordon. “Is it befitting?”

Gordon’s smile widened as he held in a laugh. “Yeah. I think it’s perfect, actually. I feel like you’ve been wearing that the whole time and I haven’t noticed.”

Tommy dropped his pose, smiling in return. Gordon still hadn’t moved away from him after messing with his cap, standing just a little too close to be professional. At this distance, Tommy could see a healthy pink in his cheeks, and a spray of freckles across his face he hadn’t noticed before. A stray curl fell into his eyes. Cute. His glasses were still fucking shattered, though, splitting his eyes into dozens of little panes as he peered out from behind them. 

Gordon must’ve thought Tommy was waiting for him to say something. Tommy let him - he probably didn’t need to know how fixated he was on the way his face looked this close up. “That’s awesome, man,” he murmured, scratching the side of his jaw and taking a half step back.

Cute, Tommy thought again. Good to know he wasn’t the only one nervous about this little dance they were doing now. It was strange, like a detour around where they had previously been hurtling. Saving Gordon’s life had broken down any barriers between them, but now that he was back on his feet, the closeness would mean something different. Here I am, next to you. Not because I have to be, but because I want to.

Tommy didn’t know how deep Gordon’s wanting went, if it ran straight through his blood and seeped into his bones like Tommy’s did. He wondered if Gordon could see how badly Tommy ached when he looked at him. He felt transparent, like his desire was visible under his skin, like it would come pouring out if he opened his mouth. Tommy dropped his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable in his vulnerability.

As they geared up to leave, Gordon called across the room to their host. “You comin’ with, Darnold?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “This sounds like good fun with good buddies.”

_ Was  _ he coming? He hadn’t armed himself. Tommy shot him a brows-raised look in question and Darnold gave a wary nod in response. He definitely didn’t strike him as a violent type, but maybe he thought riding the crazy train was the only way out of here. Sympathizing, Tommy rummaged in the nearby crate and handed Darnold a shotgun.

He bailed on them after the first hail of bullets. Nobody blamed him. After witnessing the deaths of three men in rapid succession, most sane people wouldn’t willingly choose to push on. Tommy raised a hand in a farewell wave to the chemist as he took the lift out of the lab. He could only hope the wake of destruction the science team left behind would ensure a safe exit. 

“No, take me with you, bro,” Benrey called up the chute, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“You can’t go,” Gordon huffed, turning to leave. “You’re coming with us, because that’s what you’ve-”

“Hey, you're the one who keeps killing people,” Benrey snapped.

Gordon wheeled and fired the minigun at the entity with full force. “I wish I could kill you!” he bellowed.

Benrey’s face looked like it was shredded with buckshot by the time Gordon lowered his arm. Tommy ducked out of the lab before anyone could catch him laughing. 

\---

There was a new energy to the team as they left the bunker. With Gordon reclaiming his place at the front of the pack, the group took out both soldier and monster alike with a record-breaking swiftness. Gordon in particular was fed up, channeling his frustration into gunfire as he ripped holes through their adversaries. There was a violent fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and Tommy hoped that in his anger he didn’t forget that he was still mortal.

Everything about the way he carried himself suggested otherwise.

Up the ramp, around the bend, move, move, move. They kept pushing, crowding in between two buildings and drawing the eye of a sniper. As everyone scurried for cover, Bubby took advantage of his lab-grown reflexes and hucked a grenade into the loft. The party all flinched in the flashbang that followed. 

“They’re trying to cut us off from our supply of Powerade, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, less to add anything useful to the situation and more to see if the guy’s hearing had been damaged. 

If it was, Gordon didn’t show any sign of it as he fixed Tommy with a wide-eyed, adrenaline fueled look, just on the edge of wild. “That’s horrible,” he told him, “but we’re not gonna be here anymore because we’re gonna leave and we’re gonna kill all the aliens and we’re gonna go  _ home _ .” 

The quaver that shook his voice made Tommy’s heart ache. Gordon wanted to go home so badly. Underneath all the rage and spite that was forcing him onward, there was only raw desperation. Home. We’re gonna go home. Tommy locked eyes with him, nodding small and quiet as if he could guarantee the future. 

Gordon let out a breath. “I hope,” he said.

They encounter a radio in the adjacent building, monitored by a few soldiers that were quickly dispatched. Tommy watched as the other scientists crowded around the device, arguing amongst themselves until Gordon took the lead with a loud, “Alright, here, I’m just gonna spew some bullshit, alright?”

His soldier impersonation was so bad Tommy had to leave the room with a hand over his mouth. He didn’t catch what was transmitted over the frequency, but he overheard Gordon, Bubby and Dr. Coomer discussing it later while they were upstairs. Tommy silently reloaded his weapons with slow, methodical hands as he listened.

“Now, if there’s anything I remember from my time studying military communication,” Coomer said thoughtfully, “I do believe this means they’re planning a full on assault. Bombs and everything. They’re going to wipe out the entire facility. Clean it up, so to speak.”

“Where does ‘bathroom’ fall into that?” Gordon asked, and a hollow point slipped out of Tommy’s fingers as a snicker shook through him. “What part of that - what part of the code is ‘bathroom?’”

“The bathroom,” Bubby said unhelpfully.

“There are many bathrooms at Black Mesa, Gordon,” Tommy spoke up, smirking until he realized the man’s first name had come rolling out instead of his last. 

Gordon’s name tasted good in his mouth. He needed to be careful of how often he used it. Another bullet clattered to the floor and he swore softly. 

Tommy fell into his thoughts as they scaled the buildings in the yard. If Black Mesa was getting shelled, that meant the powers that be were going to cover up everything that happened here. Destroy the evidence. Obliterate it entirely. How soon, though? Tommy could bend reality enough to get himself out of there, but his companions were a different story. Perhaps he could solicit help from his father, but he needed time for that, and that was a currency Tommy was running low on.

If they bombed the facility, that didn’t just mean the research would go away. His room back in the living quarters would be wiped out, too. It wasn’t the only place he had to live, sure, but it was a small home he had made for himself. Crafted with his own two hands out of the knick-knacks he’d collected and the posters he’d tacked up on the wall. With his luck, aliens had already wrecked the place and there was a peeper puppy snoozing on Sunkist’s bed in the corner this very moment. 

He wondered how Sunkist was doing. Tommy hadn’t heard from him in a while. The dog was immortal – he wasn’t worried about his safety – but he was probably pretty confused about his routine getting thrown off. Once they fixed this Resonance Cascade disaster he’d have to go looking for him.

Standing there, baking in the sun and his thoughts on the hot rooftop, Tommy almost missed the fact that Gordon was speaking to him.

“You good, Tommy?” he asked. “Hangin’ in there?”

He lifted his head out of his preoccupation and met his eyes. Gordon was hanging back, giving Tommy a look of concern, while the rest of the group crossed the caved-in gap in the roof. 

A sudden, unfamiliar feeling gave Tommy pause, and he had to take a moment to sort through what it meant. Yes, he could push past the discomfort and the heaviness in his limbs, shrugging into the fatigue like an old worn out coat, but he was… exhausted. Drained mentally and physically, wrung out by the week’s events and his own thoughts. Tommy hadn’t really given it much consideration before now, but apparently Gordon had noticed.

“Yeah,” he answered, haltingly. “I’m worried about…”

A lot. There was a lot to worry about right now. His brain kept getting snagged on the aerial assault Coomer had warned them about, and the people left inside the facility, dying with no one to help them. How many people worked at Black Mesa? How many called the place home? Gordon didn’t, Tommy was certain; he had just moved here. The box in his locker wasn’t even fully unpacked yet. Tommy knew because the man’s locker was located right next to his.

A small, childish part of him wanted to scream about how unfair this all was. He  _ liked  _ working at Black Mesa, he  _ enjoyed _ his research. Was it sketchy at times? Sure, but it held his attention like no other, and it allowed him to test his own understanding of reality with an accessibility other scientists in the field would kill for.

It had been a little lonely for the most part, but the new guy’s locker had been put next to Tommy’s, and he had been looking forward to cultivating a slow… something with Gordon. Build the relationship piece by piece out of conversation between shifts and passing jokes in the break room and kissing him outside his apartment door. Now, well, it was going to be trickier to hold his hand when one of them was a gun.

Both of them had been cheated out of normalcy, and it was infuriatingly unfair. Tommy felt horrible that this was what he was focusing on instead of the catastrophe that was crushing reality in its fist, but the thoughts kept coming, wave after wave, and he was far too exhausted to fight them all down anymore.

Gordon’s eyes were still on him, careful and patient. Right, Tommy was telling him what he was worried about. 

What  _ was _ he worried about? How did he sum something like that up?

“The drinks,” he said, because they were the only words he could pull from the tangle in his head.

Gordon’s brows drew in, uncomprehending. “What, like, the drinks exploding?”

“Yeah,” Tommy went on, “What about all the bathrooms and the vending machines and the Powerade and the potions department?”

He knew his elaboration was far from illuminating, but it was the best he could do right now. Black Mesa was about to be a smoking crater in the desert landscape. He was worried about that, mixed feelings and all. 

Gordon wasn’t following, but he tried, and for that Tommy was grateful. “Those things don’t hold an intrinsic value like life does,” he said. “Like, I think the value of life has been morally lost across,” he paused, glancing at where Benrey stood on the other side of the roof, “most of you.”

Tommy sighed heavily through his nose and didn’t respond. He was right. They needed to look after themselves, after each other, and make it out of here alive. Home. Home. We’re gonna go home.

And if there wasn’t a home to go back to, they’d just have to make one.

\---

Tommy’s thoughts followed him through Black Mesa, while they downed a helicopter, while they slunk through air ducts, while they sheltered in a garage. He was zoned out, paying only enough attention to make sure nobody outright died, wondering what happened to people who were as desensitized to gunfire as he had become. 

The grenade, however, caught his attention. It also caught his body with some shrapnel. Tommy’s reflexes were slow in his exhaustion, and he was a millisecond too late to deflect the high velocity cast iron embedding itself in his shoulder.

Ah, fuck. Ow.

Crowded like sardines as they were in this narrow pipe, Tommy could only crawl forward after Gordon, who charged ahead to take out the soldier responsible for the explosion. His HEV suit had absorbed the brunt of it, Tommy guessed, and Benrey had likely become incorporeal for a thin moment to allow the remaining shrapnel to pass through him. Which left Tommy to take a painful patterning of metal in his arm. Wincing, he reached the end of the pipe and began to clamber out.

Benrey slammed the hatch in his face, sending him reeling backward. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as his injury was jostled. Really? He sighed and tried again. The hatch nearly took off his fingers as Benrey smashed it shut once more.

Gordon’s words were muffled behind the steel panel, but he could still hear him yelling at Benrey. “Don’t put Tommy back in there! Stop. Stop. No. Let Tom - what are you doing to Tommy?”

The distress in his voice was touchingly genuine for something so minor. Tommy opened the hatch, shut it, and opened it again cheekily, deflating Benrey and reassuring Gordon all at once. The extra effort only aggravated the shrapnel in his shoulder a little, causing it to gush more blood down his arm. Worth it.

“Tommy, what are you doing?” Gordon asked, his eyes following him as he exited the tunnel. His gaze stuck on the metal embedded in him and his eyebrows shot up. “Are you okay?”

Tommy looked down at himself and grimaced. Yeah, that’ll leave a scar. He could heal it over relatively quickly, but the shrapnel was already in there and the damage had been done. Bubby, Benrey, and Dr. Coomer, distracted by a distant noise down the hall, moved on to investigate, feet pounding on the slatted steel.

Remaining stationary where he leaned against the wall, Tommy tried to give Gordon a comforting smile, but the pain made it tight-lipped and strained. “I’m not used to those kindsa doors,” he said.

Gordon was unconvinced. “Are - you are the most covered in blood I’ve ever seen you,” he murmured, passing him a once-over. “There was that time back when we were like,  _ way _ back in like, Data Research.”

He was probably right, Tommy reasoned. His lab coat was permanently stained a rust color at this point, and he could feel a sheen of something wet across his face, taste the iron tang of blood on his mouth. He flicked his gaze down and noticed Gordon’s hand halfway raised, frozen in midair once Gordon realized it was his  _ right _ hand. The-hand-that-wasn’t-a-hand. Tommy angled his chin away and wiped his face with the sleeve of his lab coat to spare him.

“You look horrible,” Gordon remarked awkwardly, dropping his arm back to his side. 

“Ye - Powerade doesn’t get blood off your skin,” Tommy said to fill the silence. “It - it doesn’t bind with it.”

“That sucks,” Gordon responded. Tommy didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on his injured shoulder. “How - d - how does it work like that?” he intoned softly, talking to himself now as he stared at the spreading stain of red. “Hemeo… phobic.”

What? That wasn’t necessarily correct, but Gordon was looking a little too preoccupied for Tommy to warrant correcting him. Plus, it was nice. His concern for him was nice. It spread warmth through Tommy’s chest and distracted him from the pain in his arm. He nodded down the hall indicatively. They should get going.

Much to Gordon’s ire, there were more pipes to go through. His voice was uncharacteristically subdued as he participated in the conversation passing up and down the line. Was he still worried? Perhaps it was the claustrophobic closeness of the tunnel they were in. Tommy nudged him lightly in the small of his back.

“We’re like peach tea goin’ through a silly straw,” he commented, and some of the tension left Gordon as a laugh tumbled out of him.

The pipe emptied out into some kind of storage room, which didn’t seem to Tommy like a very practical place for a pipe to go, logistics wise. He proceeded to scan the shelves for anything useful while the others cleared the room of soldiers. These looked like miscellaneous supplies, a place to store things that nobody knew where to put. Dr. Coomer called from around the corner as Tommy began pawing through the cubbies.

“Look, Gordon, a medical kit! We can use this to restore lost HP.”

“Tommy, you need this,” Gordon said immediately, grabbing the sleeve of his lab coat and pulling him away from the supplies. “Don’t lie to me. I know you do.”

Before Tommy could open his mouth to respond, or even process the fact that Gordon was forcibly dragging him to a med station, Benrey shouldered past the both of them and emptied the contents of the kit onto the floor. 

“Benrey!” Gordon growled in exasperation while the entity kicked a roll of once-sterile bandages across the floor. “Benrey, you can't die, what good do-”

“Look, Gordon, a medical station.” Coomer interrupted. “Unfortunately, it has been drained.”

While Gordon seethed and Benrey gloated, Tommy retreated from the alcove where the kit was located and leaned against the opposite wall to assess his wounds. Might as well take care of this while they were here. Gritting his teeth, he worked the larger pieces out of his flesh with his fingers, gradually relaxing as the wounds began healing over before his eyes. The smaller shards he’d have to leave in until he had a pair of tweezers. He tipped his head back against the wall and sighed heavily. He felt dead on his feet.

Benrey drifted in Tommy’s direction, leering over the embarrassment of a demigod taking damage. Tommy stared back at him, eyes half-lidded and weary. Sure, render the med kit unusable, you fucking child. Not like Tommy really needed it, anyway. The persistent pain was more of an inconvenience than anything. But Gordon - oh, Gordon was coming over here, stalking after Benrey with rage on his face.

Rage on  _ his  _ behalf. Tommy’s. Angry that he couldn’t find some relief from the med station he’d tugged him so gently toward. That unfamiliar feeling turned inside him again, soft and foreign. 

He was being cared about. That was it. Gordon was caring about him - had been caring about him this whole time. Every stupid joke and reassuring touch and glance across the room. Even surrounded by monsters, facing down a slow death by infection. Since day one of this god-abandoned nightmare, and in this very moment as he chewed out their mutual enemy.

Tommy let out a soft exhale at how long it took him to realize. Even Benrey had noticed it before he had. 

“Hey, man,” Gordon snarled at the entity. He cuffed him over the head with the minigun, sending him sprawling. “ _ Fuck _ you.”

Benrey was hurled much further than any of them anticipated, skidding across the steel floor and splitting his palms open on impact. Tommy and Gordon exchanged an impressed glance. 

“Damn, this thing really packs a wallop!” Gordon exclaimed excitedly while Benrey groaned and staggered to his feet. “Just blew you across the room! Hey, let’s try that again.”

Tommy laughed while Gordon began knocking Benrey back and forth against the storage shelves, which only made the remaining shrapnel in his shoulder leak out more blood. It hurt, but he didnt care. Even through the exhaustion, he felt indescribably lightweight, warmth and delight flooding his ribcage. 

Benrey eventually found his footing and blasted Gordon with an ear-piercing wave of sound. Gordon stumbled back, clapping his good hand over one ear and burying the other against his shoulder. Tommy winced, too. An awful sound, more agitated than Tommy had heard out of the entity in years. He didn’t sympathize. Benrey had been poking the bear all week and this assault was warranted.

“I’m gonna stop, okay?” Gordon shouted as he cringed away from the sound. “I’m gonna stop. Just stop - stop with the balls, I hate it!”

Benrey rolled his shoulders and prowled away, leaving Gordon quaking against the wall as the thin sapphire lines of residual noise floated around him. Tommy offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. His grip was warm and solid, a stark contrast to a day ago when the man was barely hanging on.

Here I am. Caring about you. Not because I have to, but because I want to. He was hesitant to let go of Gordon’s hand.

“Tommy what does it mean?” Gordon asked, dropping his hand to launch a glare at the entity. “He shot blue.”

“That’s a lotta blue,” Tommy remarked as he looked around, trying to hide his alarm.

Benrey’s little color code of emotions was something Tommy could interpret, but rarely addressed, choosing to translate through obnoxious, singsong rhymes when asked because he knew it pissed the entity off. He had only seen this much blue once before, the first time Benrey had killed him, eight years ago. The feeling of burning to death still lingered in his memory today. Tommy shuddered to think of what this creature had planned for Gordon.

From across the room, Benrey bared his razor teeth in a sharpened promise.

“It means I hate you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Gordon isn't Fucking Dying on Tommy, the man can yearn.
> 
> Holy shit act 4 is so long. If you're disappointed that I left out a scene you liked, consider commissioning me! There's no way I can possibly narrate the entirety of hlvrai beat by beat - this fic would go on forever and I am a tired human with a full time job writing this for free in my off hours. I leave things out on purpose for the sake of my own sanity. Thank you for understanding.
> 
> This fic wouldn't exist without Cosma's genius mind so thank you thank you as always. I owe you a blood debt at this point. And thank you to everyone reading and leaving encouraging comments! I love and appreciate you.


	16. Chapter 16

Tommy fell asleep in the Cadillac.

He didn’t mean to, and he didn’t doze for very long. Bubby’s erratic approach to driving made sure of that; he yanked the vehicle around like it was a bull instead of a car. Tommy was in the middle of wondering if this man even had a license when he drifted off, head lolling toward Gordon’s shoulder.

He’d been running without sleep for nearly four days, adrenaline jumpstarting in his veins over and over again by their nightmarish circumstances, and the seat cushion of the Caddy was the softest thing he’d sat on since the week began. He was too exhausted, even, to think about Gordon’s thigh pressed against his in the backseat, or their shoulders jostling together as the car whipped through the garage.

When Bubby crunched into a wall, Tommy snapped awake again.

Gordon nudged him enthusiastically and pointed through the front windshield. “Good thing Benrey’s our hood ornament,” he said, leaning in close to be heard over the roar of the engine. “He can’t die.”

Tommy’s returning laugh was tired. He rubbed his face, accidentally elbowing Gordon as he did so. There was no reason for him to sit this close to him - the rightmost passenger seat was wide open - but he appreciated the proximity. Gordon was warm and solid, and would have made for a delightful spot to nap on if the sound of distant gunfire didn’t startle him back on the alert.

“Bubby, get the fuck outta here, the Marines are coming!” Gordon shouted.

In the rearview mirror, Tommy could see Bubby baring his teeth in a grimace as he cut the wheel one way and the other. The car inched bit by bit out of the alcove he’d gotten them all stuck in, bobbing the heads of his passengers back and forth with each press of the gas pedal.

“All you need to do is parallel park,” Dr. Coomer said, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder at the soldiers charging in their direction.

“Learn how to park,” Benrey added. He strolled across the hood and stepped lightly over Coomer’s head, settling into the open seat on Gordon’s right.

The man paid him no attention, practically standing in the back seat as he craned his neck toward the immediate danger. “We’re not parking – god, we’re in an Austin Powers situation!” he growled in exasperation. A sudden jolt of the vehicle made him lose his footing and he ducked down again. “Fuck this!”

Bubby finally manhandled the car into a driveable position and peeled out, cackling madly as gunshots whizzed over their heads. 

“Fine work!” Coomer patted the other scientist’s arm approvingly. “Positive thinking in action.”

Gordon finally noticed Benrey lounging in the seat beside him when the entity smacked him in the face with an elbow as he put his hands lazily behind his head. Gordon grit his teeth and rubbed his temple, expression soured by the company.

“Oh, hey, Benrey,” he grumbled. “Welcome to the ride.”

“There’s – there’s a-“ Benrey’s razor teeth glimmered as he broke off to laugh. “There’s a pungent smell right beside me, I don’t know.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, shut up.”

The Cadillac glanced off the side of the tunnel as Bubby swung them around a dangerous curve. The HEV suit colliding with Tommy’s ribcage just about knocked the wind out of him.

He pitched forward, gripping a hand on the back of the driver’s seat as he called to the prototype. “Do you know how to drive?” he asked.

Bubby revved the engine and didn’t answer.

The sped out of the parking garage, leaving the Marines behind in the wake of squealing tires and the smell of gasoline. The Caddy was making a loud juddering sound as it careened through the tunnel and, while Tommy was no mechanic, he guessed that most Cadillacs weren’t supposed to make that noise. Still, it was preferable to the sound of Benrey screeching about a road trip at the top of his lungs. 

“Gentlemen, we don’t even need to go to the Lambda Lab,” Coomer declared triumphantly as they cleared the garage and emerged into the bright sun of day. We’re going home!”

“We’re going to the moon!” Benrey interjected. 

What they were  _ going  _ to do was crash, Tommy realized. Bubby gunned the vehicle straight toward the parking compound’s heavy metal door. 

“Yeah! Fuck it!” Gordon said, throwing up his hands. “Leave the world as it is! Oh, no, no-no-no-n- d-“

Their necks collectively snapped forward from the impact as the Cadillac crunched in on itself against the gate. Tommy groaned and held his head in his hands while Benrey chuckled darkly to himself.

“Bro!” Gordon burst out once he recovered.

Bubby was calmly climbing out of the vehicle, giving the smoking hood an unconcerned look. “Oh, the engine stalled,” he said neutrally.

“The whip- the whiplash!” Gordon insisted, rubbing his neck and wincing. “Come on. Come on.”

Tommy hastily found the handle and popped open the door as soon as he registered the ominous hissing sound coming from the front of the car. He slid out and hustled to a safe distance, trusting the others to follow his lead. 

“Yep, it’s fucked,” Bubby muttered as he strode out of harm’s way.

Coomer, following suit, gave him a light tap on the small of his back. “You’ll just have to repair the Cadillac  _ after _ the test,” he reassured him.

God, that never got old, Tommy thought as he snickered. He reached a hand behind him to tug Gordon along and was met with empty air.

Bubby’s voice rang out across the yard. “Gordon, you have to bail!”

Tommy whirled in time to see the car turn into a fireball with Gordon inside. He reacted without thinking, flinging up a psychic barrier between him and the explosion right before the blast took him. Gordon was launched thirty feet backward and tumbled into the dust, singed and smoking. There was a beat of silence where the man was worryingly still, but then he let out a groan and shielded his face from the sun with his arm.

Gravel crunched under Tommy’s shoes as he hurriedly approached him. “Mr. Freeman, that was so close,” he said, fighting off the tightness in his voice as he knelt beside him. “Why didn’t you get out of the car?”

Gordon’s eyes slowly focused on Tommy’s face, still disoriented from the impact. “Cause I didn’t – cause I-”

“Gordon, it’s dangerous to remain in a vehicle when the engine’s on fire,” Coomer interrupted, sounding concerned.

Carefully propping himself into a sitting position, Gordon’s gaze fixed on Benrey, who was studying the two of them with an amused smile, head tipped to the side. “Did this bitch put glue on the seat?” he demanded, flinging a hand in the entity’s direction. “My ass is sticky.”

The pile of wreckage that used to be a perfectly handsome Cadillac hissed and smoked in the following silence. Tommy glared at Benrey, knowing full well that he intended to kill Gordon before this journey was over. He’d had his fun, he’d gotten bored, and he was ready to discard him. Tommy helped an unsteady Gordon to his feet, keeping piercing eye contact with the entity as he did so.

Benrey just cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered across the yard, “You got  _ pranked _ !” 

He was lucky he was a healthy distance away from both of them.

\---

_ No more nodding off, _ Tommy vowed to himself. The fifteen seconds he’d snatched in the backseat of the car would have to be enough to see them through the end of this. Now that he was certain Benrey had it in his head to put Gordon in the ground, he couldn’t afford to doze.

At the top of a communications tower, he set to work figuring out how the machine operated, focusing on the knobs and dials so he wouldn’t wander off to snoozeville. They were surrounded on all sides by heavy compound walls, strung up tight by electrical fencing, and it seemed like the only way out of this area was back underground. Gordon and the other scientists crowded around the radio while Benrey loitered on the edge of the tower, kicking his legs out over a ten story drop. The burning blue sky seared down on all of them.

Gordon’s soldier impersonation made a reappearance and Tommy had to bite the inside of his cheek to contain his laughter.

“Breaker, here, uh,” he stammered into the receiver, pitching his voice down to a hesitant rumble. “Delta – al – uh – zeta, um. I love… ch- killing innocent people… I am sole b-“

He was cut off by a cacophony of commands in the code they had intercepted earlier. As the static shrill from the machine grew louder and more insistent, Gordon and Bubby took the radio out with gunfire until the thing went quiet. Tommy shook out his shoulders as his ears rang. They could have just turned it off. 

Dr. Coomer spoke up in the following silence. “Gordon, my ex-wife taught me all about military jargon before we broke up,” he informed him. “Would you like me to translate?”

Gordon nodded. “Yeah.”

“We’re fucked six ways from Sunday,” he said grimly.

In the meantime, Benrey had wandered over to the control panel for the device and was pressing buttons indiscriminately. “I’m scanning your feet,” he said, raising both his voice and his eyes toward Gordon.

Tommy folded his arms. Not this again. He had put up with years of Benrey’s bizarre feet obsession, and he was beginning to suspect it had less to do with a sexual association than it did with the fact that the entity probably didn’t have feet. He couldn’t be entirely sure - the last time he’d asked him about it, the entity had broken Tommy’s wrist.

“What?” Gordon asked, glancing down at where he stood atop the coordinate platform, “What is this?”

“It’s scanning your feet,” Benrey repeated, leering. “This is FootScanner HD, we’re gonna get high-res pictures of your feet, bro.”

Tommy caught a ripple of revulsion cross Gordon’s face. “I don’t want you to have pictures of my feet,” he responded, “I don’t s- I don’t want  _ you _ to have pictures of my feet.”

Not to mention he was wearing heavy boots and he wasn’t even standing on a scanner, Tommy mused. He watched carefully as Gordon stepped down from the platform and belted the entity with his modified arm, sending him careening off the tower.

“Y’know what? Get off!” he growled.

Benrey was unfazed even as he fell. A distant call of “Gordon Feetman!” echoed off the compound walls.

Gordon folded over on himself with laughter. “He called me Gordon Feetman,” he giggled in astonishment, unable to form an appropriate comeback.

Tommy cast a surreptitious glance over the edge of the tower, searching until he caught sight of the entity uncrumpling himself limb by limb below. He shuddered and returned his attention to the machine while Gordon stepped back onto the platform to gain a better vantage of their surroundings.

This seemed relatively straightforward - punch in the coordinates, move the array, hit the button. He’d seen something similar at the VLA, about two hours outside Albuquerque, but those radio telescopes were used for observation while these were, well, for destroying everything. Shame.

Gordon’s voice tugged at his attention. “Have you scanned my feet enough times, Tommy?” 

Tommy flicked his eyes up to meet Gordon’s and made a face of distaste. He liked the guy, but he didn’t have a particular interest in his feet.

“We’re not scanning your feet, dumbass,” Bubby snapped, equally put-off.

“Gordon, this is a radio array for calling down an air strike,” Coomer explained patiently.

He glanced down at the grid on the platform again, realization dawning on his face. “Ohhh. Oh, that’s what that is. Okay,” he stepped off the machine with a heavy  _ clunk _ of his boots. “So Benrey was lying.”

“If you’d listened to the  _ radio _ you would have known that,” Bubby huffed as he fiddled with the dials.

An astonished laugh shook his shoulders. “Tell Benrey to shut up!” he shot back defensively. “Tell him to stop – get him to stop! I need help.”

“No you shut up!” floated faintly from somewhere below them.

Tommy spared another look over the edge at the spot on the ground that was rapidly reconstituting itself. Benrey was getting worryingly fast at coming back to life. He pondered if the Resonance Cascade was affecting his abilities while Gordon continued to chuckle nervously.

Several stories beneath their feet, Benrey held up a middle finger, a gesture made all the more grotesque as his shattered arm knitted back together. Tommy frowned. Ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to have Sunkist in it but that scene is getting so long I'll be giving it its own chapter. In the meantime, enjoy Benrey being an ominous fuck.
> 
> The physical restraint it took me not to start fucking infodumping about the VLA in this chapter was herculean on my part. Do yourself a favor and look it up - it's very cool.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and support on this stupidly long and ambitious project. I'm gonna take a 3 year nap once I'm done with this lmao


	17. Chapter 17

Benrey very wisely made himself scarce after that. Tommy wasn’t sure where he was or what he was doing, but he was grateful for the brief reprieve as he and the other scientists fought their way through another underground tunnel. 

Gordon tried his best to lighten the journey somewhat by engaging the others in conversation when he could. Tommy was struck once again by his rapid-fire mouth, still able to speak non stop while going through literal hell. It became a comforting white noise to him, a gauge on how well things were faring as they picked off aliens and crossed more toxic waste. Screaming? Generally a bad sign. But Gordon asked him what his favorite TV show was when things were calm, and for a second Tommy almost felt normal.

He was having difficulty stringing words together in response, he was so tired. The arm still full of shrapnel ached. Tommy trailed wearily behind, letting the others take the lead and vent their frustrations by filling soldiers with bullets.

A deep, basslike rumble up ahead sent vibrations rippling down the hall. The hair on the back of Tommy’s neck stood on end. He had a guess why Benrey had suddenly vanished. 

“What is that sound?” Gordon wondered aloud as they approached an industrial sliding door. 

Bubby cocked his head, listening intently. “It sounds like a… like a dog?” he guessed.

He wasn’t wrong - this was the sound a dog would make if its lungs were the size of loveseats. It echoed fantastically against the metal walls in this tunnel deep within the earth. Tommy’s pulse kicked up, questions racing through his head as his teammates continued to speculate.

“A dog?” Gordon repeated, sounding troubled. “Oh, they got attack dogs? Oh, come on.”

Coomer was shaking his head, the grip on his assault gun steely and tight as the barking steamrolled over them. “No, no I don’t think Black Mesa has ever had any attack dogs,” he said.

“But, the military - I - we,” Gordon paused, contemplative. “We wiped out the military,” he reasoned.

The floor shook with the powerful bass of the sound. Tommy’s breathing was becoming irregular now as he shouldered his rifle. How had this beast wound up miles underground? Why were they all still standing around out here talking about it?

Tommy found his voice, urgency making his syllables thin. “Why I - that sounds familiar,” he said. “Open the door.”

Gordon shot him a puzzled look. “What? What do you mean, familiar?” he asked.

Tommy could only stare pleadingly back, unable to find the verbiage to explain. He needed to see for himself. The corners of Gordon’s eyes softened from their confused crinkle. Perhaps it was because Tommy so rarely asked anyone to do anything that he didn’t waste time waiting for a response.

“Hit the button!” Gordon commanded, gesturing to the panel. “Someone hit the button.”

Bubby was way ahead of him. “I gotcha,” he said, punching in the door code.

The barking persisted, rattling their teeth as the entryway slid open. An identical door lay only a few yards beyond, and Tommy’s stomach turned anxiously as they stepped forward. Gordon approached with his gun at the ready, the others following with some trepidation. Tommy felt sick. He knew that bark all too well. He’d know it at the end of the world.

Bubby unlocked the remaining door. As the steel panels hissed back, Gordon muttered an astonished, “Oh my god.”

He was here. Tommy’s brilliant, perfect star of a dog, surrounded on all sides by turrets. The massive beast sat in the center of the bristling circle of guns, coat glittering with starshine, eyes as fathomless as twin black holes. His paws alone were enough to crush a man, and his teeth gleamed long and dangerous. Sunkist swung his head in their direction and let out an angry bark that blew their hair back. 

**THOMAS. YOU HAVE ARRIVED.**

A wave of relief rolled over Tommy, followed by a crash of distress shortly after. Sunkist wasn’t supposed to be here. Yes, the creature was immortal, but he was also intelligent, steering clear of danger like a good dog was trained to do. The fact that he was this far from home didn’t bode well, if the guns pointed at him weren’t already indicative of that.

Tommy felt his own voice rise in octave as he cried out. “No Sunkist, what are you - Sun - doing here?”

“That’s Sunkist?” Gordon asked. He sounded awed, eyes wide as he took in the sight of the two ton juggernaut of an animal in front of him.

Sunkist wagged his long tail in a powerful sweep. **I WAS BROUGHT HERE BY AN INSUFFERABLE MAN.**

Before Tommy could wonder who this insufferable man was, a rough voice called out from behind the circle of turrets. “Welcome again!”

Oh, christ. This guy. Tommy felt Sunkist’s rage run through his own body, an undercurrent to his very blood. The paratrooper from before was standing a healthy distance away from his dog, a detonator clutched in one hand. Even from this far away, Tommy could see that he was terrified, quaking in his little soldier boy boots. Sunkist barked again. He wanted to use Forzen as a chew toy.

“Hey,” Gordon answered loudly, crossing the threshold. “What are you doin’ to his dog, man? Why do you have his dog?”

“Let Sunkist go!” Tommy called over his shoulder.

This man was going to get eaten alive, in quite the literal sense. Sunkist was the perfect dog, obedient to a fault, but he could only fight instinct for so long, poised as he was like a cosmic bear trap. He could feel the beast’s ire rolling off him in waves.

“What are they doing to that poor dog?” Coomer remarked.

“The fiend,” Bubby spat.

Forzen brandished the detonator in a threat. “Do not - do not come any further,” he shouted, raising his voice over Sunkist’s barking. “I’m the remaining - I’m the US military… left.”

Tommy almost pitied him, he sounded at such a loss. It’s possible he may not have taken into account all the dangers associated with angering an immortal, telepathic dog. Tommy suspected Benrey had sprung him out of the pocket dimension he’d banished him to a few days ago, but how the entity convinced the soldier to set up this elaborate scheme was beyond him.

“Gordon, bad news,” Dr. Coomer interjected. “There is one remaining member of the United States military, and he’s taken Sunkist hostage!”

Tommy frowned. Hostage was a strong word.

“He’s got us pinned against the wall,” Gordon agreed. “Okay-”

Forzen cut him off, ignoring Gordon to stare directly at Tommy. “Viens pas pres du chien sinon je vais le tuer!”

 _Don’t come near the dog or I’ll kill it._ Tommy worried at his bottom lip, feeling Sunkist’s animosity crashing against his own. Did Forzen know? Had Benrey informed him of Sunkist’s nature? Or was this just some scheme the entity had put together to get his former best friend torn limb from limb, inconveniencing Tommy in the process? He wasn’t sure what to think. All he knew was that he was growing angrier by the second, stress pulling him taut like a rubber band.

“What?” Gordon called back, his voice confrontational and harsh. “Was that French?”

“Do you speak French, Gordon?” Coomer asked, inclining his head.

Gordon ignored him. “You speaking French, motherfucker?” he snarled. “Do I have to shoot you? What do you want?”

A flicker of Forzen’s old smirk flashed across his face. “Je vais tuer le chien,” he told Gordon unhelpfully.

“Gordon, this is French for ‘he’s going to kill the dog,’” Dr. Coomer intoned.

Sunkist rumbled the room like a generator as he growled low in his throat. **I AM UNKILLABLE.**

Tommy nodded sympathetically, his throat tight. _I know you are, boy._ His hands were beginning to shake. He balled them into fists and stuffed them in the pockets of his coat.

Gordon did not seem to remember this particular detail, either, keeping his aim trained on the soldier as he negotiated the situation. “Why - what do you want from us, man?” he asked.

“I am the remaining member of the US military!” Forzen reiterated, spreading his arms wide in some sort of sick triumph. 

The sob that escaped Tommy surprised him. “Let Sunkist go!” he cried again. He was so angry. He was so tired. This week long nightmare had taken everything he had, and now even his dog was a part of the cosmic bargain. He bowed his head and sucked in a shuddering breath, blinking back the tears that were rapidly welling in his eyes.

This was so stupid. Sunkist was immortal, for fuck’s sake. He should just turn the beast loose, cut him free with a single word and let him sink his teeth into the soldier. It was what he deserved for kidnapping someone’s dog, after all. Stupid. Stupid circumstances in a stupid warehouse in a stupid facility in a stupid apocalypse. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

A warm hand squeezed Tommy’s shoulder, and he looked up to meet Gordon’s eyes, flooded with concern. 

No words were spoken, just a fleeting exchange of expressions.

You good?

I’ll be fine.

Anything I can do?

I’ve got it, thank you.

Gordon nodded, released him, and turned a glare back on Forzen.

The emotional one-eighty of feeling so cared for and understood in the middle of such an upsetting situation gave Tommy pause, but only for a brief moment. No, he couldn’t let Sunkist dismember this mortal right before Gordon’s eyes - he had already seen enough gore and bloodshed for an entire lifetime. Use that big brain of yours, Tommy. You can think your way out of this.  
“Okay y- Okay,” Gordon addressed the man with the detonator. “You're the last remaining member of the military, but what do you - what d - what?”

As the two of them spoke, Tommy slunk around the perimeter of the room until he could tuck himself into the operating booth for the warehouse lift. Sunkist’s eyes swung to follow him, expectant. The creature’s hackles were still raised, but he was relaxing by the second now that Tommy was there. He wagged his tail, nearly taking Forzen’s head off in the process.

**THOMAS. DO NOT BE UPSET. LET US ENGAGE IN A PLAYFUL ACTIVITY.**

Tommy scanned the controls, wiping a tear track from his face with the sleeve of his coat for Sunkist’s sake. He was such a good dog. “Maybe later, buddy,” he murmured. He found the lever that controlled the lift Forzen was standing on and gripped it in his hand, waiting. His eyes tracked the conversation between Gordon and the soldier like he was watching a tennis match.

At last, Forzen presented his demands, once he recovered from narrowly avoiding decapitation. “Please dispel the rumor that Irate Gamer ripped off Angry Video Game Nerd,” he said.

His words rang in a good ten seconds of subsequent silence. Gordon’s mouth was partially open, brow drawn and uncomprehending, while Bubby and Coomer exchanged a perplexed glance. Tommy rubbed at his temple with his free hand. He knew fear made people say some wild stuff, but this was some nonsense even he couldn’t parse.

“Exc- what? What?” Gordon managed to ask.

Tommy threw the lever. He was sick of this guy. Forzen may not deserve to be ripped apart by a beast the size of a snow plow, but he had still threatened his dog and held up their progress with his inane bullshit. He could rot in the belly of Black Mesa for all he cared. Metal squealed against metal as the lift began to descend.

Gordon was in action as soon as he noticed the platform moving. “Oh shit, get the dog!” he shouted. “Get the dog!”

Bubby patted his knees and beckoned to Sunkist, which was a pretty funny sight considering the animal was twelve feet tall. “Come here, boy, come on!”

Sunkist turned his fathomless, starfield of a gaze on the prototype, unimpressed. **SNAKE. I HAVE SEEN YOUR INTENTS, AND YOUR FOUL DEEDS WILL NOT ESCAPE MY JUDGMENT.**

Tommy sighed while Bubby took a faltering step backward. _It’s okay, Sunkist, he’s with us._ He peered down the shaft where the lift was descending, raising his voice to be heard over the distance. “Let Sunkist go,” he called. “I hit the button!”

“I’m gonna shoot the dog!” Forzen hollered back.

Gordon vaulted up onto the catwalk beside the pit, hanging over the railing to get a bead on the soldier. “Oh shit, move, he’s still got the button for the turrets!” he barked.

Sunkist looked to Tommy for confirmation. He nodded, and the ground shook with the beast’s pawsteps as he stepped out of the circle, knocking over one of the firearms in the process. Coomer and Bubby gave Sunkist a wide berth as they joined Gordon on the catwalk.

Forzen had no idea what was happening up top as he sank slowly downward. He waved his arms wildly. “I’ll activate the turrets!” he screamed. “I’ll kill the dog!”

Sunkist’s black hole stare landed on Tommy again. **THOMAS. I WISH TO DESTROY HIM.**

Tommy shook his head as he exited the control booth to gain a better vantage of the situation. _Not this time, buddy_. Sunkist whined, and it sounded like the screeching brakes of a semi truck. He ambled back into the circle of turrets so he could peer down the shaft at his desired prey.

“No! What the fuck!” Gordon’s voice rang shrill across the warehouse. “T-Tommy, how did you train your dog - he just walked back into the turrets!” He took a step toward the animal, but Dr. Coomer flung out a hand in warning stopping him in his tracks.

“Gordon, look out,” he cautioned, “the dog is in the firing line of the turrets.”

“Yeah, he went back!” Gordon cried in exasperation. Before Tommy could open his mouth to assure him he’d be fine, Gordon returned his attention to the soldier growing smaller and smaller on the lift ramp. “Hey, up here, you're talkin’ to me.” he said, squinting as he focused his gaze. “Is that you, Forzen? You rat fuck? You’re-”

“Irate Gamer Chris Bores did not rip off Angry Video Game Nerd James Rolfe!” Forzen interrupted distantly, sliding out of view. “Goodbye!”

A perplexed laugh leapt out of Gordon. “What do you-?” he waved him off, giving up, and called across the warehouse to Tommy instead. “Hey, can - Tommy, can you just grab the dog-” but the rest of his words were drowned out by a cacophony of artillery fire.

Sunkist was the perfect dog. Immortal, resplendent, made of star stuff. He stood unaffected in the crown of bullets pelleting his coat, dissolving them in a flashfire upon impact. He was a testament to the cosmos, a splendid blazing canid star. A creature the Sirius constellation itself would admire. Tommy’s heart swelled with pride as man's best friend lolled his tongue out and wagged his tail through the sheet of gunfire.

Across the chasm, he could see the other scientists staring, openmouthed, at the animal. They passed a few stunned remarks to one another, but Tommy couldn’t hear them over the roar of the artillery.

“Sunkist lives forever,” he told them, shouting over the din. “I was just worried that - that would - would, like, trick…” 

He trailed off, realizing his teammates probably couldn’t hear him. Sunkist’s jaws slavered with anticipation as he peered down the shaft at the soldier he intended to eat, paying the gunfire no mind until it finally died down. There was a beat of silence, and then Gordon was filling it with words again.

“Can you call the dog out of the turrets?” he asked.

Tommy paused, raising his eyebrows authoritatively as he addressed his pet. “Sunkist, can you move two feet to the right?”

Sunkist lifted his head and stared at him, eyes like the bottom of the ocean. **VERY WELL.** He reluctantly padded away from the turrets, nails clacking on the metal floors. Tommy stepped down to join him. This good boy deserved some scritches.

“Okay, he’s pretty receptive,” Gordon said, giving an impressed nod. “Alright, cool. Hey, I’m gonna go confront him,” he called to the team, steadying his gun arm. He plunged down into the darkness without a second’s hesitation. “Hey, son!”

Chuckling at the man’s fearlessness, Tommy tangled his hands in Sunkist’s soft golden fur. Some of the tension melted out of his shoulders as he pet his dog repetitively, feeling his heart rate slow as he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He needed this. Sunkist stooped down and sniffed the blood on his clothes with interest.

**THOMAS, YOU ARE INJURED. WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS.**

Tommy winced, remembering the shrapnel embedded in his arm. “I’m - it’s okay. They’re not a problem anymore.” he scratched his silky coat idly as he went on. “Why are you here? How did he find you?”

**THE HELLION FROM THE OTHER REALM LOCATED ME AND LEFT ME WITH HIS INSUFFERABLE FRIEND.**

So Benrey did have something to do with this. A sigh of frustration climbed out of Tommy. What was the _point_ of all of this? Just to yank his chain? “Why did you go with him?” he asked.

Sunkist panted like a gale force wind as Tommy scratched him in a particularly enjoyable spot. **I THOUGHT DOING SO WOULD MEAN FINDING YOU FASTER.**

Tommy’s heart squeezed. ‘God’ spelled backwards really was ‘dog.’ He pressed his face into the animal’s fur, closing his eyes and wishing he was home in his living quarters, or at his father’s house, laying on the floor with his best friend. Pondering what he would make for dinner. Where they would go on their next walk. Nothing tried to kill them and nothing smelled like blood.

He ached with how badly he wanted this to be over.

Sunkist raised his massive head, pricking his ears toward the yawning chasm. **YOUR COMPANIONS ARE LEAVING YOU** , he noted.

“They won’t,” Tommy reassured him, pulling back to collect himself, and as he said it he knew it was true.

Gordon would never abandon him, and he was almost certain the same fact applied to Dr. Coomer. Bubby’s loyalty was questionable, but he would at least allow himself to be bullied by the others into holding back. It was a new feeling, one he wasn’t used to. Having friends. Knowing they were there for him.

They would wait up, but he shouldn’t leave them hanging. He tilted his gaze fondly up at Sunkist. “Let’s go.”

At the bottom of the industrial lift, Tommy was met by the others and the fresh corpses of numerous aliens. They were smears of yellow and green on the floor of what looked to be a storage room for shipping containers. Gordon was pacing the area and running his functional hand through his hair frustratedly. Tommy folded his arms and leaned back against a crate to watch him while Sunkist sat obediently at his side. 

“Where’d he go?” Gordon growled. “He got away again. Fucker.” He caught sight of Tommy and his eyes lit up. Correcting his course to approach him and Sunkist, he flung out an animated gesture of agitation. “I wanted to shoot his ass for endangering a poor, sweet dog.”

Tommy found that funny, snorting as he tried to imagine Sunkist as anything other than the dazzling and dangerous creature he was. Gordon gave him one of those signature dimpled smiles Tommy loved so much before sliding his gaze up to the twelve foot beast before him.

“So Tommy, that’s - that’s Sunkist?” he asked.

“Sunki - yes.”

Sunkist studied Gordon critically before passing his judgment. **YOU ARE A FOOL IN A MAN’S CLOTHES** , he decided, addressing the man directly in his mind. Tommy didn’t miss the shiver of awe that raced down Gordon’s entire body as the message was received.

“I dunno, Sunkist,” he said, shrugging and grinning over at Gordon. “I kinda like him.”

The deep blush that colored his cheeks made Tommy’s smile pull even wider.

Sunkist wagged his tail good naturedly. **PERHAPS THAT MAKES YOU A FOOL, AS WELL.**

Maybe it did. That was fine by him. He’d put on the cap and the jingly shoes and do a little dance in front of a king and his court. There goes Tommy Coolatta, certified fool. His feelings for Gordon ran so deep by now that he was sure he’d drown in them if he tried to fight it. 

Gordon reached out his hand, hesitated, and looked to Tommy for permission. He was still blushing. “Can I pet him?” he asked.

“Go ahead.”

After tackling his initial trepidation, Gordon got that misty-eyed look on his face that people so often did when they were petting a dog. He kept his modified arm at his side while he combed through the silky fur of Sunkist’s chest, his smile open and relaxed. God, he was gorgeous. He could imagine him petting Sunkist like that in front of the television in Tommy’s living room on a hot summer evening. He tossed the fantasy from his mind before he could dwell on it.

Instead, he tore his eyes away to address Bubby and Dr. Coomer, who were hovering awkwardly a few yards away. He inclined his head in invitation; they could all use a little dog therapy right now. The two of them, however, shook their heads. Perhaps the appeal of a handsome golden retriever was somewhat diminished when that retriever could eat you in one bite. 

“He looks a little… too pristine,” Gordon commented. 

Sunkist huffed directly into Gordon’s face, trying to look irritated despite the wonderful petting he was receiving. **I AM PERFECT.**

Tommy tipped his head in amusement. “Why, what’s wrong with him? Do you think there’s something wrong with him?”

Gordon faltered as he met the eyes of Tommy’s greatest invention. “No, I think - I don’t think he’s - I think he’s okay,” he stammered. “But, like… is this just what he looks-”

“Oh, he better be better than okay. This is - Sunkist is the perfect dog.” He patted the creature’s side approvingly.

Gordon opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, struggling as he chose his words carefully. “He looks kinda like a JPEG, man,” he finally said.

Confusion clouded Tommy’s thoughts as well as his expression. A JPEG? Like, a digital image? He searched Gordon’s face, trying to parse his meaning behind the lenses of his glasses. Oh. Oh my god. His glasses were still broken.

“A what?” Coomer asked, while Bubby uttered, “Rude.”

Tommy stifled a laugh, wondering how badly his depth perception was fucked right now. “What do you mean, what’s a JPEG?”

Gordon could sense he was being made fun of, but wasn’t quite sure how, brow wrinkling in a curious smile. He withdrew his hand from Sunkist’s fur and gave the dog an up-and-down gesture. “He looks pretty - he look kinda flat,” he insisted.

Sunkist whuffed. **DID I NOT TELL YOU HE WAS A FOOL?**

“I don’t - I don’t understand what you mean, because I - it - everything looks like an image in real life, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy wheezed. “That - are you goin’ crazy?”

But he took pity and fixed his glasses for him with a gentle wave of his hand. Gordon blinked, removing the lenses from his face both to inspect them and to give Tommy a humorous, head-shaking smile. He pushed the frames back up the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Tommy should have taken care of that sooner.

Dr. Coomer spoke up, continuing the joke. “Gordon, did you know that our eyes perceive everything as images?” 

Gordon turned to offer him a sunny retort, cutting himself off midsentence when his eyes caught something behind one of the shipping crates. He took off at a rapid clip, gun raised in a threat. Tommy exchanged a glance with Bubby and Coomer and they all hurried after him.

Turns out Forzen had been hiding amongst the containers this entire time. Why he didn’t take this opportunity to shoot any of them was a mystery to Tommy, and he pondered this passively as Gordon cornered the soldier, backing him against the wall with the minigun pointed at his face. The rest of the team clambered atop the structure, flanking Gordon and Forzen on all sides. Even Sunkist loomed his bottomless gaze at their target, the ruff of his neck standing on end with impatience.

Gordon tried once again to make heads or tails of the paratrooper’s insane request. “You want me to dispel the lies about Chris Bores,” he said, keeping his aim steady. “Who is that?”

Forzen, scared shitless by the collosal animal peering down at him with all the radiation of the sun, barely stammered out an answer. “Chris Bores Angry Video Game - uh - Irate Gamer!” 

“What?” Gordon demanded. “I don’t know what that is. The fuck-”

“Youtube,” the soldier spat.

Beside Tommy, Coomer adjusted his grip on his weapon while he slanted Bubby a questioning look. Bubby shrugged idly as he switched out the magazine for the AR he carried. 

“So you’re the last member of the military and you kidnapped his dog,” Gordon stated, snatching a glance at Tommy. “How did you know that was his dog?”

Forzen tipped his chin back to meet the swirling eyes of the animal he had placed in a corral of turrets. Tommy saw his face blanch to white as Sunkist spoke to him. 

**FOUL MORTAL. YOU SHALL PAY FOR YOUR MISDEEDS WITH YOUR BLOOD.**

Forzen held his trembling hands up. “Listen to me.” 

“Okay, I’m listening,” Gordon said. “But you’re at a loss here. You lost your advantage. I don’t know why you didn’t press the button sooner.” he paused thoughtfully before adding, “and even if you did, the dog’s immune to bullets.”

Tommy admired the restraint Gordon was showing. His own hands were itching to snap this cruel, pathetic little man out of existence, and Sunkist was beginning to drool. He couldn’t let his dog eat the soldier alive, but he could spatially launch him far, far away from them.

Forzen seemed to sense his approaching fate. “Wait, hold on!” he begged.

“What?” Gordon asked.

Tommy raised his hand, palm out. The soldier folded in on himself with a _pop_.

Gordon stood there, staring at the place the man had once been. He flicked a questioning look between Tommy and his dog, but Tommy kept his expression neutral. Gordon didn’t need to know what Sunkist would do to the soldier if he ever encountered him outside of this room.

“We lost ‘im,” Gordon finally said, numbly. “But hey,” he went on, “if he confirmed our suspicions, That was the last member of the US military. We are one kill away from wiping them out.”

Sunkist licked his chops. The team dismounted the crates and regrouped. 

“How are we gonna handle this dog with us, though?” Bubby asked as he leapt lightly from his perch.

Gordon’s dark eyes were still a little wider than usual as he took in the beaming, two ton animal that had cramped itself in the storage room with them. “We do - we do have a - just a dog…” he uttered, at a loss. “He’s so big! What do you-” he looked to Tommy. “What breed is he, a golden retriever?”

Sure, something like that. Tommy gave his best friend a loving pat. “I made him extra big,” he allowed, smiling. “Big dogs are better.”

“I - I agree,” the man answered. “I love big dogs. But like. You ma - he’s huge!”

Sunkist blinked at Gordon. **MY EXISTENCE STRETCHES FARTHER THAN YOUR MIND COULD POSSIBLY COMPREHEND, PEON.**

Tommy tugged gently on the beast’s coat, drawing his attention. “Sunkist, it’s not - it’s not safe here,” he told him. “You need to go home.”

‘Go home’ meant find Dad. Sniff him out from wherever he’s hidden himself in the folds of time and space. Tommy needed answers, and he was tired of clawing around blindly for them in the dark. _Get help. I need to talk to him._

Sunkist blinked again, slowly this time. **AS YOU WISH. I LOVE YOU, THOMAS.**

He was struck by a sudden tightness in his chest, a miniscule well of tears springing hot to his eyes. He gave Sunkist one last grateful pet, reluctant to see him leave. _I love you too, buddy. You’re a good boy._

Then he flung a ‘go fetch’ gesture above his head. “Go, go!” he urged.

Sunkist bound upward, dissolving through the ceiling in a brilliant explosion of light. The science team shielded their eyes from the sunburst, and a millisecond later, the creature was gone.

Gordon dropped his arm and gaped, openmouthed, at where Sunkist had vanished. “How did you train him that?” he asked.

Tommy grinned with tearful pride. “Sunkist is the perfect dog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Benrey no longer gets within ten feet of Sunkist because he's been torn limb from limb enough times to have learned his lesson. That dog HATES him.
> 
> The way I wrote Sunkist in this chapter is loosely based off of tumblr user sunkist-scientist's mspaint comics. PLEASE do yourself a favor and take a look if you haven't seen them yet. I think about them constantly.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this surprise chapter! Thank you for the comments and encouragement, they keep me going like good pets to a good dog.


	18. Chapter 18

Benrey reappeared with a vengeance to play hardball with Gordon’s head.

Tommy could do little to buffer it. As soon as they set foot in the Lambda Complex, he was gripped by a sense of vertigo that nearly knocked him flat. 

This sucked. God, this  _ sucked _ . He could feel the rift in space like a tear in his gut, and it only grew worse the farther into the sector they went. Staggering along with the group took all he had, lacerated as his nerves were by the rending of time, and Benrey took full advantage of his weakness to find new and creative ways to make Gordon suffer.

The entity very carefully skirted around the man’s modified arm, having received a taste of the beating it could give and preferring not to subject himself to it further. The damage he dealt was more psychological in nature, and he seesawed wildly between making ominous threats and firing off nonsensical bullshit. Gordon held onto his resolve as best as he could, gritting those pretty teeth of his and brushing the entity off as he and the team waded through waves of aliens. 

Some of his resiliency slipped when they encountered the first helpful soul they’d seen in hours and Benrey promptly shot him. This nameless person had stayed behind for them, surviving unimaginable horrors alone at his post by the door, an admirable bravery for the sake of such a slim hope. Benrey put a bullet in his skull with a bored look on his face and stepped neatly over him while he bled out.

Pointless. Death for death’s sake, purely for the sick satisfaction of watching Gordon’s expression crumple as he passed the fresh corpse on the ground. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Tommy heard him murmur, his words brittle and shaky. “I’m fuckin’ sorry.”

His heart broke for him.

The best he could offer in comfort were fleeting touches here and there, halfhearted jokes that landed flat, his words dropping limply to the floor as soon as they left his mouth. He could barely put one foot in front of the other, much less keep the mood light as time knotted a noose around his neck. Whatever was at the heart of the Lambda Complex, it undeniably wanted them dead. 

Everyone except Benrey. He was beginning to hum with a vitality Tommy rarely picked up on, taking bullets as an afterthought and grinning like a maniac while the laws of physics loosened around them. The extraterrestrials continued to pay the entity no mind, but the portals they opened into Black Mesa hit Tommy with the force of gunshots, and he suddenly knew what it felt like to be helpless. He stuck behind the others for protection as the interdimensional nausea rendered him all but useless. The pressure built behind his head like a hungry thundercloud.

This  _ sucked _ . 

Tommy felt too shitty to be relieved when they reached the sector they were looking for. A huddle of nervous scientists greeted the team when they arrived, and they hurriedly gathered around Gordon, because Gordon was the leader, Gordon was the one with the suit, Gordon was the messiah that would deliver them from this hell. What a burden to place on someone who just wanted to go home - who probably no longer possessed a home to return to.

He didn’t have the necessary energy to pay attention to the exchange, so he trusted Gordon to handle it as he sat wearily against the wall. Tommy rested his head in his hands and ran them obsessively through his hair, as if he could make the awful boiling in his stomach go away if he fingercombed hard enough. Dimly, he registered discussions of teleportation and a planet called Xen, a term he recalled vaguely but certainly never possessed the security clearance to know much more beyond that. 

Off to the side, Benrey had a scientist cornered and was grilling him about PlayStation Plus, which seemed like a suspiciously benign conversation topic considering the gravity of the situation they were in. The entity caught Tommy’s eyes from where he stood and showed his teeth in a cheeky grin, causing the scientist he was speaking with to take a nervous step backward. Tommy returned his head to his hands, too overwhelmed to bother.

Once Gordon was given the appropriate run down, the science team reassembled to keep moving. Their destination: a rift in the very fabric of space. This should be fun, Tommy thought grimly as they headed down the hall.

All at once, the pressure bearing down on him lifted and he could breathe again as a presence entered the complex. A familiar wave of energy rippled outward and everything stood still, freezing Tommy in place along with the other members of the group, save for Gordon. Tommy would let out a sigh of relief if he could make any sound. His father had arrived.

Up ahead, Gordon stopped in his tracks as he registered the change in the air. “Oh, no, not this again,” he breathed. He cast a narrowed glance to the entryway in front of him. “Come on - come out,” he said, waving his left hand in a beckoning gesture. “Come out, man.”

Tommy’s father stalked coolly into the hall with them, looking pin-sharp as always. The barest ghost of a smile touched his lips as he surveyed the group before landing his nebulous gaze on Gordon.

The man huffed out a sigh. “What do you - what now?”

“Doctor Freeman,” his father began, “it’s so good to see you in such… good spirits.”

‘Good spirits’ was a stretch, Tommy guessed, considering Gordon had been on the receiving end of Benrey’s psychological warfare for the past several hours. He tried desperately to make eye contact with his father, but the man in the suit was lasered in on Gordon. His chosen one. 

He went on. “You are nearing the end of your journey, my friend, and I thought it would be only fitting to-”

His sentence crumbled in the middle as Benrey stepped casually out of his place in time. The entity cut his cat’s eyes over to Tommy while he passed his frozen form, grinning a smug grin and joining the two bewildered men at the head of the hallway.

Tommy’s nerves raced with alarm. Benrey wasn’t able to do this last time. Breaking free of his father’s influence was something that was beyond even Tommy’s power, and the fact that Benrey had shaken off the shackles of time with merely a shrug did not bode well for them. He held his breath and watched.

Gordon was equally disbelieving, eyebrows drawn behind the frames of his glasses. “What?”

Benrey ignored him and stared straight at Tommy’s father. “D’you have - you have credentials?” he asked.

The swirling galaxies that made up his father’s eyes flicked to the entity, a gaze so piercing it would make any mortal man balk. He knew who Benrey was - had heard enough stories about him to place his name and face - but had never been formally acquainted. Benrey held his stare defiantly.

In that hall in Black Mesa, a god actually faltered. “Uh - I-” 

Tommy had never seen his father fidget before. The sight of Benrey causing his father to scramble for words made his skin crawl.

“They’re in my… other coat.” he finally said. “I - if you wouldn’t mind, I’m trying to um, talk to Mister Freeman over here.”

Enjoying the man’s discomfort, Benrey pressed further. “It’s okay, I wanna see them, though? Do you have PlayStation Plus - uh, voucher?”

“Oh my god,” Gordon murmured. 

“I don’t know... what - um…” Tommy’s father paused, forehead furrowed into contemplative lines. “Hm.”

“I just - I’m waiting, I wanna - I wanna get another month, but I want, like, a free trial?”

Gordon wheezed with incredulous laughter under his breath.

Tommy’s father tried once again to ignore the entity. “Right, um. Doctor Freeman, if you wouldn’t mind. You have to bear in mind, now, the next leg of your journey is going to be the-”

“Where are we?” Benrey cut him off suddenly.

Tommy, motionless, could only watch as his father snapped his mouth shut in shock. An achingly long stretch of silence followed, and Tommy wondered if his father was contemplating destroying the entity then and there. Benrey had an innocent look plastered on his face, expectantly awaiting an answer.

“What is happening?” Gordon asked, darting his eyes between the two.

The god among them finally waved a dismissive hand and turned his back on the group. “Y- You’ll You - You’ll f - figure it out,” he said. “You’ll figure it out.”

As the space around them began to shimmer and warp, Tommy’s stomach dropped with realization. His father was leaving them to deal with this on their own, all because some churlish creature had caused him to misstep? Anger and disappointment warred inside him, but both feelings were quickly overpowered by nausea as the pressure of space tearing apart gripped him once more. 

His father hadn’t even  _ looked _ at him.

“Bro, add me - what’s your tag on PSN?” Benrey called, but the man in the suit was already gone.

Time began wheeling again and the team shook out of their stupor.

“Yo what the fuck,” Benrey sighed. “I just wanna play games with people, man.”

Bubby, who apparently hadn’t witnessed anything from the past few minutes, shouldered past the entity toward the next room. “Um… me too, I guess?” he commented.

Gordon gave a sharp shake of his head, freeing a few stray curls into his face. “Can I confide in you guys about what just happened?” he asked. “You’re never going to believe me.”

Racked by vertigo and the crushing reality of being left to his fate by his own father, Tommy barely paid attention to the conversation. No, Gordon was not going crazy, and yes, the previous maddening exchange had actually happened, but whatever was beyond the threshold of that door was hammering into Tommy’s skull with a painful, distracting insistence. His head might split open if they stood out here deliberating much longer. He pinned Gordon with a troubled look through slitted eyes. 

Gordon got the message, nodding back at Tommy with a grimace. “Let’s go to the alien homeworld,” he said with finality, “and kill a space god or something.”

In the chamber beyond, the Dimensional Portal Device looked a lot like the machine that started this whole disaster, and Tommy could tell right away it was the source of his torment. Colossal metal claws thrust up from the subsurface of the chamber, looming over a cylindrical conduit in the center. Tommy trailed behind Gordon blindly, fighting down the nausea and the memories as Gordon called to the attendant to turn it on. 

The room rumbled with the force of the machine groaning to life, and as Tommy flinched away, he caught a wide, placid smile unfurling across Benrey’s face. The entity’s expression was an eerie calm, relaxed and expectant as his skin was bathed in the blue glow of the device powering on. 

He looked like he was awaiting a homecoming.

As Tommy realized this, a tremendous shockwave overhead sparked and spat, and an alien ripped into their dimension. Coomer and Bubby, already alert to danger, pelted the creature with artillery as it swung around the chamber. Gordon grabbed Tommy by the sleeve of his lab coat and dragged him out of the line of fire. A jarring vibration hummed deep in Tommy’s chest, but he suspected that had more to do with the machine that was rapidly expanding with power than Gordon’s concern for his life.

Benrey continued to move through the chamber with a dreamlike bliss, and it was an unsettling contrast to the gunfire and the flailing monster and the great, shuddering drone from the portal. Tommy nearly blacked out from the rift in space that appeared at the device’s epicenter, a debilitating punch to his solar plexus. Gordon kept him standing with a strong hand under his elbow, his free arm raised to fire at the flood of aliens that began rolling into the chamber.

“We’ve gotta go!” he roared to be heard over the din.

Bubby’s mouth was a grim line, taking shots at the creatures like they were clay birds. “You’re wearing the suit,” he called back, “you go!”

“It’s ready? Okay!”

Gordon passed Tommy to Dr. Coomer as gently as he could with the world ripping apart around him. Tommy sagged against the old boxer’s steely shoulder, watching Gordon as he strode toward the platform. Extraterrestrials and bullets screamed around them and the machine began to buckle under the weight of its own creation. In Tommy’s periphery, Benrey was smiling. 

“I’m going for it!” Gordon called over his shoulder.

He charged in with the boldness of a supernova, and Tommy didn’t think he would ever be that brave in his life. 

The portal flashed outward and the world went white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gman, after one conversation with Benrey: gotta go.....
> 
> I am so excited for xen, guys. 
> 
> Thank you for encouraging me with all your lovely comments through this fic! We're almost at the end!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this one gets uh, pretty icky with the descriptions.

Stars wheeled above Tommy’s head in constellations he didn’t recognize. His eyes slowly fell into focus, and they moved sluggishly as he tracked the dust motes swimming in front of his nose. The nausea was gone, replaced with a strange lightness in his limbs; an airy, detached feeling he wasn’t quite sure he enjoyed. When he raised his head to look around, his body responded several beats slower than he’d like.

So this was Xen. It… didn’t look like much. Tommy had been deposited on a hunk of floating rock in the middle of a nebulous void, clustered around other asteroids rotated and spun like tortoises. It was unnaturally small, he noted. There was no way the hordes of aliens that had flooded Black Mesa had originated here. Spatially speaking, it was impossible.

But Tommy had just lived through an entire week of the impossible, and his survival depended on suspension of disbelief. He watched the landmasses floating past as he flicked through his thoughts. The ground beneath him had a light, chalky texture. Tommy skimmed his palms across the surface in an attempt to ground himself.

He felt untethered in a dangerous way. Vulnerable and exposed and… something frighteningly new. 

Mortal. 

It was very likely he could die here, he realized. Die for real. Die and not come back. Die with real consequences. His heart was delayed in its reaction, thumping out an anxious rhythm that was too slow to be natural. He was stretched out like taffy here, and if he broke it would end him permanently. Tommy was suddenly very, very afraid.

He forced his limbs to move, pushing himself into a sitting position with an effort that was worrying. Dr. Coomer had made it through - he was dangling his legs contemplatively over the edge of the rock they were floating on - as had Gordon, who was casting a wide-eyed stare at their surroundings, too awed for words. Bubby was nowhere to be seen, but Tommy was too busy wrestling against the static in his body to spare the prototype much concern.

He couldn’t lose it here. Not now. His pulse was thin and rabbity and oh so mortal, but if Tommy started freaking out in this unreal and dangerous plane, he’d surely die.

In that moment, Gordon wheeled and caught Tommy’s gaze, giving him a brief pass for injury before fixing on his face. “This is fucking crazy,” he breathed. “I can’t believe this is real.”

Tommy swallowed and managed a weak nod. No, he would not be dying on this planet. Look around, he thought, figure it out, build a solid foundation on fact. He drew in a steadying breath.

There was - somehow - an atmosphere on Xen, which Tommy deduced from the lack of boiling in his eyeballs, as well as a decent amount of oxygen, evident from Gordon being able to speak without instantly suffocating. The guy really should have put the helmet of his suit on before entering the portal, he thought distractedly. Gordon didn’t seem to be experiencing the same slowness in his limbs as Tommy was, which was good. Better to have one barely capable teammate than an entire downed crew. 

They were short a member, though. Tommy didn’t miss the worried trill in Coomer’s voice when he said, “I haven’t seen him since we… I - I don’t know.”

“Oh no,” Gordon muttered. He passed another narrowed glance around them. “Where’s Benrey?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Where  _ had _ the entity gone, exactly, now that he was no longer bound by the structural laws of Earth’s plane? A dark premonition told Tommy they would be playing on his turf while they were here on Xen. Best to tread lightly. Shouldn’t be too hard, considering the gravity level.

Gordon shaded his eyes against the glow of the nebulas around him. “Did you see that?” he murmured.

“See what, Gordon?” Coomer asked.

Tommy heard a sharp intake of breath, a shift of dry gravel as Gordon took a step back. “Whoa.”

He flicked his gaze up at what had alarmed the man, and sucked in a startled gasp of his own.

Benrey had ballooned to a grotesquely colossal size, hovering nearby with that same placid smile stretched across his mouth. Uneasy, Tommy scrambled to his feet, and immediately was forced to double over from the sudden rush of blood to his head. The entity’s eyes, two gelatinous circles of yellowed flypaper, rolled from Gordon to Tommy. His lip curled back to reveal his jagged grin, each individual tooth the length of a fully grown man.

“What?” Gordon harshed out in disbelief.

Dr. Coomer, wholly put off, only uttered a small, “oh.”

Head spinning, Tommy managed to stand to his full height and draw his rifle from his shoulder. He made the mistake of catching the entity’s gaze and rapidly looked away. Okay, no, yeah, the nausea was back.

Gordon held out a hand defensively. “Hey, man,” he began.

The force of Benrey’s voice shook the platform they stood on. “Yo.”

Gordon fought valiantly to remain calm, but Tommy could detect the panic running a cold undercurrent beneath his voice. “What’s up? You look a little - you look kinda… big, there.”

Benrey’s enormous shoulders rolled in a shrug. “I’ve been tellin’ you to go back. I dunno man, you’re not listening to me. It kinda hurts.”

“Why do you want us to go back? What is happening?” Gordon asked. His face quickly hardened from shock to indignation as his brain began piecing together the facts. “Hold on. Hold on. Hold on,” he growled. “I was fucking right. It’s  _ you _ , man!”

Benrey’s lips, if possible, stretched thinner as his grin widened. “Yo, it’s me!” he affirmed, buffeting them with his breath. “What’s up?”

Tommy covered his mouth and nose with one hand while Gordon sliced his arm in a threatening arc. “Don’t come any closer. Stay at that distance,” he warned.

Benrey’s mile-wide smile didn’t waver. “What the hell, man?” he asked. “Why are you freaking out?

“Because this is insane!” Gordon barked. He tore his eyes away from the creature to cast a worried look at the boxer beside him. “Dr. Coomer, what do we do?”

A tense few seconds of silence passed. Coomer’s voice was quiet when he responded. “Gordon. I’m scared.”

Gordon pivoted anxiously to Tommy again, who had managed to aim his rifle at Benrey. “Tommy. Tommy,” he hissed.

He darted him a look. “Yeah?”

“Make a run for it, okay? I’m gonna distract him.” 

Tommy frowned. Like hell he would. If Gordon thought Tommy would leave his side after everything they’ve already faced, the man was dumber than he thought. He gave a sharp shake of his head and Gordon turned away with a sigh.

The entity was still watching them with a predatory expectancy. Gordon made another attempt to act like it was normal to speak with a man so large his mouth was a cave. “Hey what’s y - ah, what’s your favorite - what’s your PlayStation 3 gamer, uh gamertag-” he fumbled, muttering under his breath. “Do they call it gamertag? I dunno. I dunno, man. What’s your na-”

Benrey’s grin fell into an amused smirk. “That’s private information,” he answered. “You shouldn’t be asking that.”

“...‘Kay,” Gordon responded flatly. He returned his attention to a despondent Coomer. “How do we get him out of here? I feel like if we move he’s gonna fuckin’ eat us, or something.”

That made the entity laugh, vibrating the asteroid they were standing on. “Wanna kiss?”

Gordon startled backwards. “No!”

He scrambled away just as Benrey drifted closer, taking a flying leap from one platform to the one adjacent in what was far too great a distance to be natural. Tommy watched Gordon skid with all his weight on one foot as he adjusted to the gravity, and once he was certain of a safe landing, he grabbed Dr. Coomer and they made the jump together.

Gordon was still shouting at Benrey as they touched down. “You can stay there. You can stay there. Over there-”

“Yo, come back,” came Benrey’s distant whine.

“No,” Gordon bit back, insistent.

Tommy helped Coomer to a steady standing position and brushed the dust off his lab coat. A pointless action, perhaps, considering how crusted it was already with dried blood and alien gore, but Tommy was more focused on the scientist’s hollow stare as he tapped his shoulder in a “you good?” manner.

Dr. Coomer met his eyes and gave a very slow nod. His grip on his weapon was shaking.

Benrey, further back, swam lazily through the stardust as he basked in Gordon’s attention. “Man, we used to be great friends,” he said.

Tommy scoffed. He’d heard this one before.

“We were never friends,” Gordon barked. “We were  _ never _ friends. There was maybe-”

“Remember those days where we played - we were playin’ in the sand and in the mud, we played in the mud all the time? Great friends.”

Gordon looked to Tommy, who managed to roll his eyes. Being the size of the house didn’t change Benrey’s tendency to act like a complete ass, it seemed, though Tommy’s nerves were still alight with apprehension as the creature stared them all down.

“I don’t think - I have a - you are forging these memories, dude,” Gordon went on, backpedaling quickly as Benrey lurched closer. “Oh, shit. Oh,  _ shit _ .”

God, he really looked awful at this size. Tommy’s instinct to keep an eye on the most immediate threat warred with the revulsion of seeing an almost-human with pores the size of mailboxes. He shook out his right hand, then his left, as if that could get rid of the crawling feeling on his skin. Benrey blinked, slow and wet, at the three of them. 

“Hug?” he asked.

Gordon made a noise that could only be described as “fuck no” and booked it.

As they hopscotched across the levitating platforms, Tommy gradually gained his bearings, adjusting to the weightlessness and the loose grasp this plane held on the laws of matter. Feeling a bit more oriented (but not an iota safer), he was able to notice more detail in the architecture here. The spires that lanced into the milky starlight above were definitely otherworldly, but a few features in this plane were recognizable to Tommy, such as a support beam in the shape of a lava lamp, and… were these Pop Rocks under his shoes? 

Another rock formation swam past and he leapt lightly across the gap. Gordon was connecting a dotted path toward the largest landmass in this nebulous thing that passed for a planet, putting as much distance between himself and the entity as possible.

“Okay. Okay,” He huffed. “So, I guess Bubby - we have to forget about him because we have more pressing matters on hand right now.”

Coomer deflated vizibly at this notion, but he said nothing. They kept moving.

Now that Tommy was looking for it, he caught a number of other items from Earth in this plane. Busted copies of old video games, value sized bags of sweets, and other assorted oddities dotted the landscape, fusing and unfusing with the skeletal architecture like Xen was some kind of extraplanar bowerbird nest. He blinked with disorientation as he struggled to track it all. These were all things Benrey liked, he concluded, and suspicion coiled in Tommy’s stomach. Perhaps he had underestimated how much influence the entity held over this plane. It was probably best not to discount how easily he could kill them all here.

Gordon was in the same vein of thinking. “We have to get away from whatever the hell Benrey is,” he warned them, before lamenting to himself, “Why, why, why, why? Why is this my life? Why does it have to be this way?” 

Tommy wasn’t sure if Gordon intended for the others to hear him, so he only grimaced and shot the man a sympathetic look in response. The whites of his eyes were showing stark in that frightened, deerlike way. He was terrified, but still somehow holding it together.

“Is he gone?” Gordon asked, right as the entity loomed into view. “Oh god. Oh god. Hide from him!” he hissed, throwing out a frantic gesture. “Tommy, get out - get out of sight! Don’t let him see y-”

Tommy’s position didn’t seem to matter that much, as the entity kept his luminous gaze on Gordon exclusively. “I can see wherever you go, friend!” Benrey boomed. “I have scans of your feet as well!”

“I don’t want you to have those!” Gordon replied, vaulting over the edge of the structure onto a nearby rock formation. “And they told me you didn’t!”

“Stop right there, Mister Gordon Feetman.”

Benrey leaned in close as the platform swung past him. Gordon stood tall and fired on the creature with all he had, even while trembling in his boots, and Tommy loved him for his fearlessness. 

The entity seemed content to play with his food for now, taking the gunfire without so much as a flinch while the platform circled away from him. As Gordon, panicked and gasping for air, slid out of range, Benrey turned his glistening smile on Tommy and Dr. Coomer. His chin and neck were honeycombed with bullet wounds, and blood slid slow and thick down into the collar of his uniform. 

Benrey winked at Tommy. Tommy racked his rifle in response, though fear was furrowing bone-deep in his limbs. Getting killed by this guy in the ass end of space would be a pretty embarrassing way to die, all things considered.

His attention was ripped away by Gordon charging past them, arm raised to fire. Tommy wheeled and met the wave of peeper puppies skittering toward them. He took aim and shot them down one by one as they approached, reminding himself to be conscious of the weightlessness in his body and the pulse in his neck that could be stopped in a second. You’re mortal. You’re mortal. You can’t slip up here.

Through the pepper of gunfire, Tommy heard Gordon utter a bewildered, “Bubby! What?”

Coomer popped the last alien with a slug of lead and snapped his attention to Gordon. He was staring, puzzled, at a static point on the ceiling a few yards away. Tommy looked, too, blinking through spatial disorientation as a full-sized Hot Wheels car phased through the prototype’s body. Bubby dropped from the stalactite he was clinging to, stumbling to an unsteady landing on their level. 

Coomer exhaled in audible relief at the sight of him.

Bubby adjusted his glasses and dusted himself off, as if that bizarre entrance had all been planned. “God dammit, I thought I was out of there.”

Gordon’s gun arm hung in limp confusion at his side. “What just happened? Did you just turn into a car?”

A beat of silence passed as asteroids skimmed around them like pontoons.

“Look,” Bubby muttered, tossing an awkward look at the vehicle over his head. “We all have secrets.”

As Dr. Coomer pulled the other scientist into a hug, Benrey leered around the corner, aiming his yellow, pointed smile at them. The four of them hurriedly clambered through one of the cracks in the chalky stone walls and out of the monster’s line of sight.

The odds and ends Tommy had been seeing were tangled up in a scattered nest inside. He stepped gingerly over knotted shoelaces, a broken plasma ball, and sixteen copies of FIFA 08 as he followed the others toward the glowing teleporter in the cavern’s center. It hummed lowly, spiderwebbed between pillars, far more organic than the portals Tommy was accustomed to.

“What are these?” Gordon breathed. “There’s way more to this than we knew, huh?”

“The alien landforms here are beautiful,” Coomer intoned sarcastically.

Tommy crunched over broken glass and bottlecaps as he circled the room. Had Benrey taken them… home? Was this his home? How long had he been collecting this stuff? Tommy was having difficulty reconciling the two vastly different environmental factors of this place, alien and terrestrial, while Gordon and Bubby debated the safety of the teleporter.

“Well, either you’re stranded in an alien world, or you’re sent somewhere safe, or you’re instantly killed by it,” Bubby reasoned flatly. “So, take your pick.”

In that moment, Benrey’s face squeezed between the rock like flesh through cheesecloth, and Gordon pulled Tommy by the wrist through the portal before they could vomit at the sight of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LARGE BENREY IS HORRIFYING AND THINKING ABOUT IT IN REAL LIFE CONTEXT CHILLS MY BLOOD OKAY
> 
> Thank you to Cosma, Altec, and Nasper for help with the items in Benrey's weird little nest. I figured this was the best way to make the Bubby-turns-into-a-car thing make sense. He didn't necessarily become one, but the spatial fuckery in this plane made it seem like he did. I guess. Whatever. Don't worry about it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who had been leaving comments on this fic! I eat them for power and energy.


	20. Chapter 20

The room they wound up in seemed to breathe. The walls moved in a moist, rhythmic pattern and the space was lit with a low purple bioluminescence. Tommy stumbled for a few moments on the spongy, uneven floor, fighting off a wave of nausea as he supported himself on something that was like a pillar. While the portal spat out the rest of the team behind him, Tommy cast a look over their new surroundings. 

This place appeared more organic, the colossal ribcage of an extraterrestrial whale. There was not a single item from Earth in sight. The walls glistened with a sheen that was like oil on blacktop. He paced the room, unsteady and observant, as a bright flash of light heralded his companions’ arrival.

“Hello, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer said, just barely staggering to his feet as the man in question landed on the other side.

Gordon groaned. “Hello. Hello,” he said, voice thin and weak. “I’m sick of teleporting. I don’t wanna do it again, man. I don’t wanna d-”

“Teleportation sickness is a common side effect,” Coomer interrupted, sighing heavily as he gained his bearings.

“How do you know that? He’s... we don’t-”

Bubby offered Gordon a hand through his speculation and pulled him to his feet. “Hello, Gordon.”

“Hello,” he responded. “Where’s Tommy?”

Tommy angled his chin at the sound of his name and rejoined the others. “I’m right here.”

Gordon gave Tommy’s hand a light squeeze of acknowledgement as soon as he was within reach. Tommy was slow to return the gesture - he was studying Gordon’s face, which was steadily growing uneasy as he took in their surroundings.

“Look - look at what I found,” he said, releasing Gordon’s hand to indicate the ribcage of spires. “These look like, ah, huge columns that they use for construction for their fucked up alien construction technology.”

Gordon fidgeted as he passed a glance overhead. “I don’t care,” he said, then quickly clarified, “like, like I’m not saying that to you, Tommy, just - I just don’t-” Gordon sighed in frustration. “I wanna be out of here. This is all a fuckin’ scientific marvel, and we can write notes about it when we get home later, but now-”

“Look,” Bubby interrupted. “This all reminds me of the time that-”

He vanished.

Gordon, Coomer, and Tommy exchanged a perplexed look.

“What? Oh, what is happening?” Gordon wondered to no one in particular.

Bubby manifested as quickly as he’d disappeared. “And then I - Where did I go?” He cut a glance to the three men staring at him.

“Where  _ did  _ you go?” Gordon asked. “What did you see?”

Bubby paused, gears turning in his head while the room breathed around him. “...Shit’s fucked, man,” he concluded uneasily. 

Gordon’s shoulders shook in a nervous chuckle.

“The rules of this place are different from ours, Gordon,” Coomer deduced. “They - _ oh _ .”

He hunched over suddenly, clutching at his chest. The breath hissed out of him in an agonized whine, and then his joints rearranged themselves in a sickening series of cracks. The scream Coomer uttered made Tommy’s blood run cold. He rapidly averted his eyes.

“D-Doctor Coomer?” Gordon whispered.

The scrambled collection of limbs that was Dr. Coomer rebuilt itself with a heavy crunch. “So we need to be careful,” the boxer finished brightly, as if nothing had happened.

“What w-” Gordon’s sentence crumbled into a panicked, stuttering sound as his eyes went round. “Shit. Nothing means anything anymore.”

As he said this, both Bubby and Coomer folded in on themselves in a horrifying collapse of pained cries and impossible contortions. Gordon, panicked, darted a glance at Tommy, as if he thought he might deteriorate into this agonizing meaninglessness, as well.

Tommy returned his gaze with a tight-lipped grimace. He could feel the intent of this alive place, how hungry it was to pull him apart piece by piece, but he’d be dead in the ground before he let himself become interdimensional roast pork in Benrey’s homeland.  _ I’m not going anywhere _ , his eyes told Gordon.

Gordon returned his stare to the other scientists. “What is happening to you two?” he barked.

Bubby quickly righted himself, flicking his usual cool look between Gordon and Tommy. “I want to get moving,” he said. “Let’s go, Gordon.”

“Why do you keep making those sounds?” he persisted.

Coomer rolled his neck like he was just waking up from a nap. “Come along now, Gordon,” he said, beckoning for him to follow Bubby into a nearby hallway.

Gordon looked to Tommy again, and after a few seconds of contemplation, he gave a hesitant nod. Perhaps Bubby and Coomer would lose themselves here. If that were the case, it would be sad and unfair, but in the end, they still had to push forward. In the end, Tommy still had Gordon’s back. In the end, they were still going home.

His expression was tortured, but Gordon nodded back. They headed out.

\---

It was the same song they knew so well by now, but Xen put it in a different key. Run, hide, shoot, watch your buddy’s back. Grapple with the horrifying ordeal of imminent mortality. Wipe the goo off your shoes. Tommy shouldered his rifle and his own fragile heartbeat as well as he could in the belly of this beast, but Benrey’s watching eyes made the whole trip that much more nightmarish.

The entity was toying with them, phasing in and out of the walls in increasingly unrecognizable shapes as he followed them through Xen. Tommy latched onto his own annoyance so that fear couldn’t override his nerves, but ignoring Benrey was much more difficult now that he was ten stories tall and threatening to eat them alive. He tried to keep an eye on Benrey, the aliens, their deranged teammates, and Gordon all at once and found himself coming up woefully short.

Not to mention he had to watch out for himself, which was something he still wasn’t used to. The latent static in his body that signified the blood in his veins hadn’t wavered since passing through the portal. He kicked himself with the reminder over and over. He could die, Gordon could die, they all could die out here. Keeping it in mind while trying not to dwell on it too much was proving more difficult than it seemed. Benrey was practically licking his lips in anticipation.

At least Bubby and Coomer seemed relatively stable after their initial breakdown at the start of this trek. Their surefire aim and superhuman instincts pressed them down the path at a decent clip. Forward. Always forward. Climbing ramps and clearing gaps and dodging arcs of electricity. This place was organic-adjacent;  _ almost  _ alive,  _ almost _ watching them, and Tommy wasn’t sure whether the stray gunfire they popped off mattered or if it was just making their environment more enraged.

His brain grasped for context and he contemplated how this place came to be. How long had it been here? Was it older than Earth? If Benrey called Xen home, were there other denizens here like him? Lost in his thoughts, he nearly missed Gordon losing his footing and slipping into a vat of caustic green fluid. 

He hurried belatedly to haul him out of the stuff, struggling until Coomer joined him and grabbed the man’s other arm. To Tommy’s ire, he couldn’t quite bend the laws of physics in a plane where physics was busted beyond repair. He was glad he could rely on the boxer’s strong hands to help him pull Gordon free.

He emerged, coughing and spluttering, and Tommy steadied him by the elbow until he was able to right himself. “I thought you guys had left me for dead,” he panted.

Tommy wiped slime off on his slacks. “No,” he stated flatly, because there was no other response to an assumption so preposterous.

Dr. Coomer slapped the man’s shoulder congenially, spraying them both with the green liquid. “We’d never leave you, Gordon,” he assured him.

As Gordon turned to fish his glasses out of the vat he’d fallen in, Tommy idly voiced his thoughts. “I can't believe this is what life would be like if - I - if… If mammals evolved with moon shoes,” he guessed.

“Yeah.” Gordon murmured after a pause, flicking the water off of his frames with preoccupation. He passed a questioning look to Tommy, no doubt wondering if he could clear his lenses like he’d done so many times before, and Tommy had to give an apologetic shake of his head in return.

Not here. Not now. He felt so fucking useless.

Bubby reemerged from the hall he’d been exploring, beckoning to them ardently. “Over here,” he urged.

“And to think,” Tommy went on as he fell in line with the others, “that if gravity was just a little lower on our planet that all - we would live like this.”

He wasn’t even sure if it was something he’d logically concluded or if his mind was just cobbling together some kind of sense out of glue and thumbtacks in an attempt to right himself. It felt kind of silly, saying it out loud. But perhaps the silliness itself was a comfort.

Gordon, at least, acknowledged him. “Our brains would develop different,” he agreed, pulling up short when the hallway emptied out to a chasm. The walls were ringed and red like a trachea, and Gordon grimaced with distaste. “Aw don’t tell me this is another portal - oh shit  _ what is that _ ?” 

The team collectively followed Gordon’s horrified stare to the creature descending on them through the ceiling. Benrey was no longer lurking, now, and he defied the structural integrity of what made up a human body in a grotesque pinwheel of bone and sinew. Tommy wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the thing as Benrey if it weren’t for his familiar, grating voice echoing through the chamber.

“Yo, friend! Welcome!”

Quickly, they took cover from the entity’s sharp, flailing limbs, pressed hard against the walls of the vertical structure despite the wetness. Tommy racked his rifle, even though he knew the hollow points were worth jack shit at this stage, while Gordon hissed out a repetitive, “What is that? What is he? What is he? What is that?” through his teeth beside him.

Coomer angled a sharp nod at Tommy and the two of them leaned out from the corner to take aim at the entity. Benrey disappeared as quickly as he arrived with a dark, echoing chuckle.

“Where’d he go?” Gordon asked. “You guys saw that, right?”

Coomer sighed and lowered his weapon, looking sick. “Oh, I’ve seen a lot of things I’d like to forget here, Gordon,” he muttered.

\---

Higher up in the column that breathed around them, conveyors of colossal blue barrels rolled past. Tommy was reminded vaguely of a production line, though he dreaded to think what sort of creatures were being assembled at this organic factory.

“Look Gordon, barrels!” Coomer pointed out helpfully.

“Oh thank god, something familiar,” Tommy murmured. “They have barrels, just like we do.”

“It’s not - that is not like any barrel I’ve ever seen,” Gordon answered. “That’s like a barrel out of Donkey Kong times twenty.”

Tommy snorted. Of course Gordon was thinking about video games even in this nightmare. Gordon flashed him a brief, cheeky grin of acknowledgement - a burst of humor and then back to business. Tommy wished it could last.

Benrey continued to play cat and mouse with them as they traversed the cathedrals of Xen. They squeezed themselves through a network of vents that made Tommy feel like a blood cell in an artery, emerging on the other side to meet a yawning hole of darkness that hummed at their presence, hungry.

“Aw fuck, another one of these portals.” Gordon grumbled. He paused, eyeing the rectangle of starlight, before checking with the others. “You guys ready?”

Bubby shrugged. “Yeah?”

The man’s voice went quiet. “Okay,” he said, almost inaudible.

Coomer piped up cheerily in an attempt to reassure. “As long as I’m by your side, Gordon, I’m ready for anything.”

“Same to you man,” Gordon replied gratefully, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

The walls reverberated with Benrey’s heavy contradiction. “That’s a lie.”

It was a spine tingling, teeth-chattering declaration, but Tommy couldn’t help but dwell on how  _ wrong _ Benrey was. He  _ would _ follow Gordon into hell - had been doing so this whole time - and no amount of interdimensional horrors were going to change that now. The entity had been so consistently off the mark about all of them, he wondered if he was living in his own version of reality as well as his own plane of existence. Was he just throwing darts blindfolded at this point, or did Benrey actually have a plan?

Didn’t change the fact that he was large enough to crush them in one fist, but it was something to think on.

Gordon’s blood was chilled all over again. “Where was he?” he demanded, eyes darting. “Where was he?”

With a scoff, Bubby fiddled with the trigger of his firearm and jerked his chin toward the portal. “Well, I’m good either way.”

Gordon ignored him. “Why is this not freaking you guys out? How are you keeping your cool during this?”

“Now, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer reasoned, “it’s only fair you know I am freaking the fuck out!”

A genuine laugh startled out of Gordon, ringing through the hallway in the lovely, bell chime way, and Tommy felt his throat go tight to hear such a comforting sound.

“I’ve read no books that have talked about any of these things, Mr. Freeman,” he said, smiling faintly.

Gordon met his eyes, playful. “That must scare you more than anything, Tommy.”

“And I’m stronger than anything here.” Bubby declared, snapping the fingers of his free hand impatiently. 

“I… don’t believe you,” Gordon replied haltingly.

“I believe him,” Coomer said with confidence, and Tommy caught a brief, wordless exchange between the two older gentlemen.

There was no point lingering. The four of them filed in.

The sickening feeling of rearranging atoms passed through Tommy and he emerged, reeling, on the other side. The way ahead was patterned with stepping stones like a galactic rock garden, leading them leap by leap to a haunting structure up ahead. Spires soared like a chest cavity cracked open, cradling the ragged heartbeat of a fuschia rift in space. The hair on the back of Tommy’s neck stood up just laying eyes on it.

“Whoa,” Gordon breathed. “What is that?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Dr. Coomer echoed.

In the distance, through the haze and the space dust, Benrey lurked. His reflective cat’s eyes were tracking their every movement, and Tommy made a point to shoot a frown in his direction.  _ We see you _ . At least he was no longer a knotted shoestring of muscle fiber, returning to his four-limbed, human-adjacent form to loom just out of reach.

Gordon noticed, too, raising an arm to point. “Look over there,” he said.

“Oh, no,” Coomer uttered quietly.

The entity watched, but didn’t draw any nearer. Tommy kept his grip tight on his rifle and wondered what he was waiting for. Gordon surveyed him suspiciously out of the corners of his eyes, gauging the threat level for a few moments before turning his eyes to the jagged wound of a portal that awaited them.

“Alright guys,” he said. “Let’s go take a look and see what that is.”

They began their unsteady hop to their destination, navigating the low gravity with care. Tommy’s blood sang with discord the nearer they drew to the rift, and he shook his hands out as if it could dispel the feeling.

“It’s like a - ah, a castle,” he commented.

“I don’t know if I’d call it that, bud.” Gordon sighed. “What on  _ god _ .” He made the final leap, landing solidly on the chalky rock, and stared. “Holy shit.”

Tommy cleared the gap behind him. The thing was even worse up close, flanked by jets of scalding steam, warping and twisting and folding in upon itself in a way that was a headache to parse. He rubbed at his temples with his free hand and squeezed his eyes shut. The other two scientists landed nearby with a light crunch of gravel.

“Is this Benrey’s?” Gordon asked, flinging a look over his shoulder at the unresponsive entity.

“It’s beautiful,” Coomer commented in awe.

Gordon nodded. “It kind of is in a weird way.”

Bubby was completely dazzled, swirls of crimson and magenta pulsing in the reflection of his glasses as he stared. “It fills me with a joy and energy I’ve never known,” he said.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Benrey shrieked distantly, and he winked out of sight.

Tommy had no doubt the entity fully intended to. In all likelihood, Benrey was on the other side of this rift now, waiting for them to walk willingly to their doom. He wanted to discount the threat like he had so many times in the past, but… Jesus, he really could kill them here, couldn’t he? The rules were different, the turf a different color, time ribboning around their necks in nooses to hang themselves with. He eyed the portal with trepidation, standing on the edge of a conclusion.

Dr. Coomer turned suddenly, attention rapt. “Gordon?” he asked, while space debris drifted past.

He lifted his brows in acknowledgement. “Huh?”

“Gordon, do you like video games?”

“I…” he paused, mouth pulling into a distracted frown. “Yeah, man. You know, that’s - the whole Justin TV thing. Kane & Lynch 2.”

“I’ve never been keen on them myself,” the scientist went on. “I believe I’ve told you this before, but there was one from my childhood when I was younger that inspired much joy in me. It was  _ Super Punch Out _ , for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System.”

That faint smile reappeared on Gordon’s mouth. “I love  _ Punch Out _ ,” he said fondly.

Coomer grinned fully at the recognition. “It’s a wonderful game about a boxer overcoming all odds to become a champion.”

Tommy listened to their exchange passively, cutting a quick glance to a disinterested Bubby and back. Coomer sounded wistful in a way he’d never heard before, picking Gordon’s brain about life and reality while the other man gave him slow, thoughtful answers. There was a vulnerable deliberation to their words, a quiet consideration, almost as if they were saying…

Goodbye.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Gordon asked.

Dr. Coomer exhaled heavily through his nose, looking away with a shiver, swallowing past an unseen lump in his throat. “Gordon, I don’t think there’s any turning back from this point,” he said quietly.

“No,” Gordon agreed. “You guys ready?”

_ Was _ he ready? It was such a simple question, one Tommy had been ruminating on since they wound up in the intestines of Xen, but facing down the portal made him hesitate. They were all so small and fragile and painfully mortal, and what lay on the other side was an eldritch monster with murder in his heart. Was this martyrdom? Was this suicide? How did they kill the unkillable? Tommy felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

He shook out of his fog in time to hear Gordon checking in with their other teammate.

“Bubby? Let’s do it.”

The prototype nodded and gave a nonchalant thumbs-up. “Yep.”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Gordon had been speaking to him just now. Possibly for the last time. Tommy’s stomach dropped and he stepped toward him with an outstretched hand.

“I couldn’t hear you through this gas,” he blurted in a panic.

Gordon turned slowly in his direction, a complicated look on his face. There was something in his eyes, a deep sadness, a razored fear he was fighting so hard to hide. He was just as marrow-deep afraid as Tommy was, putting on a hero’s front because that was what heroes did, and Tommy thought that maybe he was a little bit in love with him.

Gordon met Tommy’s approach with a tight grip on his shoulder, right where his neck met his collar, touching his skin just barely, and Tommy ached.

“Okay,” he affirmed, his voice only shaking a little. His hand was so warm, even through the glove he wore. “Listen I’m gonna c - can you hear me now?”

Bubby pivoted away, putting a respectable distance between himself and the two of them. “Those fumes can’t be good for you,” he muttered under his breath.

Gordon ignored him. “Can you hear me?” he repeated, like it was the most important question in the world.

Tommy’s face was mere inches from Gordon’s. There was no way he _ couldn’t _ hear him. “Yeah.”

“Thank you for being there for me.”

Tommy exhaled painfully. “Gordon…”

This sounded like a goodbye, too, and Tommy's heart ached to hear it. Perhaps it  _ was _ goodbye. Perhaps this was the last time they’d be able to have this, to speak with one another in this way. What did he even  _ say _ ? Where did Tommy find the words for the churning sea inside him, here on the edge of the end?

He brought his hand up to cup the side of Gordon’s face, fingertips brushing over the stubble of his jaw. God, he was gorgeous like this, bathed in the magenta light of the portal, eyes wide and dark and locked on him. How had they become this? Four days had passed since they met and Tommy already felt that Gordon Freeman was knitted to his soul. 

There was no time to grieve the loss of what could have been. They didn’t have space for long, drawn out confessions, though Tommy wasn’t even sure he’d be able to string together the right words if he had an eternity in this moment. Gordon was staring at him with an unspoken longing, lips slightly parted, and Tommy knew he was right there with him.

He begged the universe to give him one last sweet thing and leaned in.

It was a brief kiss. A last ditch, now-or-never, end of the world kiss. Gordon’s mouth pressed against his with a fervent hunger, fingers digging in tight where he gripped Tommy’s shoulder, pleading wordlessly for more, more, more that Tommy wished desperately he could give. He would stand here and kiss Gordon forever if things were different, eyelashes fluttering shut and gentle heat blooming in his stomach. What a tragic miracle. Tommy kissed him like his heart was about to stop.

When they broke apart, Gordon was rosy from ear to neck, and Tommy guessed from the warmth in his face that he was a mirror to the man in front of him. The portal hummed with impatience as they hesitantly let go of one another, but the eye contact Gordon maintained was as intense as the sun.

“We’re gonna get out of here,” he told Tommy with newfound certainty. 

Helplessly, Tommy nodded. “Okay.”

“If it wasn’t for you I would have died back at Black Mesa,” Gordon said. “I’m not throwing that away. We’re gonna kill this fool and we’re gonna go home.”

Tommy could only nod again. He was afraid to let himself hope, but with his mouth still burning in the afterglow of that kiss, he realized he believed him. 

Another beat of silence passed, which Gordon eventually broke. “Alright.” He took a step back and surveyed the cathedral of knives that awaited them, then shot a quick glance to Coomer and Bubby, who nodded confirmation that they were ready. 

Gordon Freeman, bold and lovely, didn’t hesitate. “Let’s get it!” he called. “Let’s do this!”

They all stood back and watched as their messiah charged into the portal’s hungry mouth. A brilliant flash of light seared their retinas, and as Gordon disappeared, the team moved to follow.

“Let’s give them a good show!” Coomer declared.

They plunged in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the air force is trying to kill me but jokes on them i write fanfiction on government time.
> 
> xen is fascinating and all but please let these mfers go home..... they deserve to rest
> 
> thank you all for your patience! we're almost at the end now


	21. Chapter 21

The portal stole their breath from them, chewing them up and spitting them out in a dark, red cavern. Tommy was up to his shins in some kind of tarlike fluid, but he was less put off by the wetness in his socks than he was by how warm it was. Pocked stalagmites reached up from the floor like long, spindly fingers and the air was thick with a humidity that made it hard to breathe. Firelight flickered overhead. It was unexpectedly quiet, save for the lapping of water around their legs as the team assembled raggedly and gained their bearings. 

“Oh my gosh, this place is huge,” Gordon breathed.

The unnerving qualities of this womblike place were second to the great, crouching thing that watched them from the center of the chamber. Benrey’s arms were tucked in at odd angles, and his form rose up from the murk like a tumor. From where his wide, pallid face was resting, Tommy could see that dark fluid sloshing into the corner of his mouth. 

Gordon sounded as unsettled as Tommy felt when he asked, quietly, “Is he dead?”

Sure, dead like a possum. Benrey’s eyes may have been unfocused and glassy, but Tommy wouldn’t believe for a second the creature was deceased until he personally watched his final breath leave him.

As if sensing Tommy’s thoughts, the entity’s gaze lasered in on Gordon when he took a tentative step in his direction. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Gordon responded automatically, halting in his tracks.

“I knew this was gonna happen.”

Benrey’s voice echoed off the sides of the cavern and rippled the water around their calves. Firelight flickered hot and yellow off his tractor tire irises, and Tommy had to look away.

Gordon had a bit more resolve in him, keeping nervous watch on the entity. “What?” he asked. “What do you mean you knew this was gonna happen?”

“I’m telling you - look, I’m... I like everything, I'm a great cool...” Benrey trailed off.

Tommy watched a confused glance pass between Gordon and Coomer while the entity went on.

“I feel a good, but you make me angry. Rememb-”

“Why,” Gordon interrupted, frustration edging his voice. “Because I don’t have my fucking passport? Is that what this-”

Benrey cut him off abruptly with a flash of his serrated teeth. “No. You remember? The first time we met... you wa- you walk in- I’m on my shift, and you come in, and you got a dick slip in your... in your HEV suit.”

There was a fraction of pause, an iota of processing during which the gears spun in everyone’s heads, until Tommy saw Bubby mouth the words, _ dick slip? _ and suddenly he was forced to hold in a riot of shocked laughter.

Gordon threw a glance over his shoulder at the others, astonished light dancing in his eyes. When he turned back and demanded, “ _ What? _ ” Tommy heard humor in his voice.

“And I tried - I tried to stop you. I tried to tell you. I was stopping you - I was going, ‘hey, yo dick out,’ but you didn’t-” he broke off, giant forehead wrinkling in consternation. “I was tryna be nice, and then you were talkin’ to my friend, J- Jefferem, and you’re telling him like, ‘Aw, I don’t have my passport…’”

As Benrey spilled more nonsense out of his mouth, Gordon turned, one hand propped on his waist, to give a “you’re hearing this, right?” look to his teammates. Dr. Coomer exhaled loudly out of his nose, shaking his head as he took this time to reload his weapon. Gordon looked to Tommy, the corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly and brows raised like a child asking for a dare.

The entity continued to rumble the cavern as he spoke. “And... he was so upset - he has anger issues - I was gonna protect you from him, we were - I was gonna be nice to you. Remember that?”

“Yeah,” Gordon answered, “and then you contradicted yourself almost immediately. I didn’t say shit to you, you immediately started attacking me, and you just harassed me-”

“No, that’s just my job!” Benrey huffed, eyes rolling in Gordon’s direction.

“To do what?” he demanded. “What is your job? What is this - where the fuck are we?” 

Tommy was about to tell Gordon that prying answers out of the entity would be ultimately fruitless, even in possession of a crowbar, but he stopped short when he saw that the man was… smiling. Grinning outright, like he had just told a bad pun and was waiting for everyone to tell him to fuck off. This conversation was on purpose, Tommy realized, prodding Benrey to keep talking - not to make sense of his story, but purely because its utter ridiculousness brought Gordon glee. He fought down a giggle and watched the exchange unfold.

“I - I mean,” Benrey went on, “if there’s a dick - if, y’know, someone’s dick out on the job, I gotta stop ‘em.”

“What are you on about? What?”

“But like... you don’t remember?”

“My dick has not been out all day.”

“No, no! Like... the first time we met.”

“Yeah, in fucki- before the test?”

“What test?”

Gordon exchanged a glance with his companions. “What does this have to - I don’t understand. I-”

“ _ Listen, _ ” Benrey said, and launched into an argument that Tommy could barely parse. 

Deadly serious, the entity droned on about PlayStation 3, a game called Heavenly Sword, and the embarrassment of asking his coworkers for some kind of exclusive gaming membership. It was nonsensical, difficult to track, and Gordon was loving every second of it. Nearby, Coomer and Bubby were keeping a wary eye on their adversary, weapons in hand, but they were chuckling to themselves, as well.

Somehow this gigantic, horrifying creature was digging himself into a hole with every word, reducing little by little to just… an annoying guy with bad video game opinions. Benrey could immolate them on the spot, stretch out a massive hand and crush them like insects, and instead he was arguing with Gordon about the likelihood of a dick slip in the armored casing of a hazard suit. All Gordon had to do was keep him talking. Tommy felt a flood of admiration as he watched the guy ham it up with that shit eating grin on his face.

“How does that have to do with fucking  _ anything? _ ” he asked, punctuating every word with a gesture of his hand.

Benrey fell suddenly silent, pupils dilating like a cat out to hunt. “My friends are here,” he uttered quietly.

Gordon cut his eyes around the cavern, searching for signs of movement. “What friends?” he asked. “What is he talking about?”

Benrey’s volume rose in agitation, shaking the chamber and raining bits of gravel on their heads. “Sony CEO Jack Tretton survived a nuclear- a nuclear bomb!”

“What?” Gordon barked, taking a startled step back. “What? Should we…?” he looked to the others. “Should w-”

“Sony CEO Jack Tretton hired Nintendo CEO Reggie and they built a big bomb that was gonna go off... but I saved the  _ world! _ ” Benrey bellowed.

Tommy was convinced at this point that, if Benrey was ever occupying the same plane of reality the rest of them were in, he was no longer a part of it. His form began to shift and stretch, shoulders rolling and neck straining as he began to rise out of his false rigor mortis. 

Though a touch of laughter remained in Gordon’s voice, he was beginning to sound alarmed. “Should we stop him?” he asked. “Should we just start shooting at him? Cause I d- it’s not gonna do-”

“No, no!” Tommy interrupted sarcastically. “Let hi - le- let him finish. We need to understand.”

Coomer let out a harsh chortle as he racked a round. “It would be rude to interrupt,” he agreed.

As Benrey continued to rise from the murk, a thin, skittering sound could be heard from the walls of the chamber. “So I didn’t - I didn’t have a big plan. I was ‘sposed to be nice, but you forced me to be baaad so I’m gonna be baaad, friend.”

Judging by the way Gordon’s eyes were skimming the area, he heard the noise, too, but laughter was still shaking his words. “How did I force you to… how did I force-?”

Benrey angled his chin toward Gordon, unimpressed with his mirth. “The big plot is slowly unraveling before our eyes,” he intoned. “Look at this.”

“Look at  _ what? _ ” Gordon demanded.

A horrible sound wrenched through the cavern, a sonic bass that Tommy felt deep within his chest cavity and shook the very room they stood in. The scratching grew louder and he caught flickering glimpses of skeletal hands in his periphery, reaching from the burrows that honeycombed the walls. He braced himself and raised the stock of his rifle to his shoulder. 

“I don’t know what he’s saying anymore,” Gordon said, “I-”

There was a sickening rip-tear and a subsequent wave of red water rolling in their direction as Benrey hauled himself all at once to a standing position. He stared cooly down at the four of them, murderous intent clear on his face even at this distance. Fluid trickled down his form in red lines like blood. Tommy readjusted his aim.

Gordon took a couple frantic steps back, water sloshing around his legs. “What’s happening. What is happening?” he asked. “What is happening to him?”

“I can feel a change in his DNA,” Coomer answered thinly, right before Benrey became a nightmare. 

His form unspooled like a helix torn in half. Flesh and bone separated, sinews snapping apart as whatever it was that made this thing Benrey released itself. The creature fanned wide, covering the space with limbs that shouldn’t function, eyes that shouldn’t be able to see, serrated and hungry. All this time it made a terrible noise, war made sound, shaking the cavern in its horror.

This wasn’t a joke anymore.

Several things happened at once. Skeletons poured from the walls, clawing and scraping toward them in a rattling wave. Gunfire exploded around Tommy as his teammates began firing - at Benrey, at the undead, at anything that moved to stave off the onslaught. The entity roared his frame-shaking bellow, and through the whirlwind of movement and all the terrible noise, the Science Team was scattered like dandelion seeds caught in a lawnmower. 

Reality blurred for Tommy after that, boiling down in his brain to the pull of his trigger finger and his own heartbeat in his ears and Gordon, somewhere, frantically calling his name. Hearing it almost hurt worse than the psychic waves crashing over his body while the skeletons pursued him. He swung the stock of his rifle and shattered a stray skull as he ran.

Where did he run to? Where else was there to go but into oblivion? Panic rose in his throat as he fired off rounds and dodged the reaching fingers of the thing that once was Benrey. Distantly, he heard calls from his teammates, and then a hand locked around his wrist and he was being yanked into a portal. 

Atoms scrambled, heart hammering in his throat, Tommy landed on the other side with his ears ringing, stumbling and tearing his palms open on the gravelled ground. For a second, all he could focus on was the steady beads of blood rising to the surface of his skin, hypnotic and scarlet in their mortality. But then a strong pair of hands were under his arms and Dr. Coomer hauled Tommy back to his feet. A heavy slap on the back knocked him back to reality.

Gordon, after checking that they had all made it through, swept the room with a cautious gaze as he rallied his nerves. “Are we safe?” he asked. “What is this?”

Did it matter where they were? Somewhere else in the monstrous structure that was Xen. A vesicle, an artery, the porous space inside a network of bronchioles. All Tommy could think about was how heavy his arms felt as he carried his gun. A pool of unidentifiable fluid lapped nearby, its depth unguessable. 

“What the fuck is the plan?” Gordon asked them. “What do we do?” he passed a glance between Bubby and Coomer, who could only offer a collective shrug. His voice was on the verge of breaking as he went on. “I don’t know. I’m scared as shit.”

Bubby worked his jaw contemplatively. “I’m… confused,” he admitted, quiet in a humility Tommy rarely saw from him. 

Dr. Coomer nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, Gordon.”

Gordon turned his gaze to Tommy, who slowly shook his head. Stay alive. That was the plan right now for him. He wiped his bleeding hands off on his lab coat and said nothing.

“Okay… We know that he likes PS3… and that my dick-” he broke off to drag a hand down his face in frustration. “What the  _ fuck? _ ”

“And he and his friend just got a - uh, month of PSN,” Tommy added.

“And  _ Heavenly Sword _ ,” Coomer agreed.

“Okay,” Gordon uttered automatically, backtracking with his brow furrowed. “I don’t kn - I’ve never played that game. Is there  _ anything _ he said that’s gonna help us kill him? How do we kill this fuckin-”

“Well, he said it’s not a ripoff of  _ God of War _ ,” Dr. Coomer added, unhelpfully.

This somehow drew the entity’s ire, his terrible voice thundering through the chamber, source unknown. “It’s  _ not _ a ripoff.”

Suddenly the walls were crawling with skeletons again and the once quiet room exploded with gunfire. As Tommy spun and popped off rounds, he distantly heard Bubby cry, “Into the water!”

His mouth was halfway open to bark  _ wait waitwaitwaitgunsdon’tworkinwater _ \- when there was a splash and his companions disappeared below the surface. Tommy spat out a curse and followed them. 

Muffled silence pressed into his ears as he slipped into the depths. Tommy blinked against the gloom, darting his eyes around as he tread water with his rifle in one hand. There was Gordon, a furious figure filling hollow skulls with gunshot wounds. Bubby and Coomer backed him up, honing in on something dark and swirling beneath their feet. This shouldn’t be possible, shouldn’t be working in this way; physics were definitely, definitely busted here. A skeletal hand clutching at Tommy’s pant leg tore him from his thoughts and he twisted to kick it away.

Well. When in Xen. He bicycled his legs to stay afloat and started firing.

An explosion of something deep beneath them sent the water boiling, forcing the team to haul themselves to dry land while the skeletons perished around them. Tommy spluttered and coughed at the lip of the pool, limp and unresisting as someone hauled him out. Unsteadily, he found his footing as his lungs expelled water. He wiped his eyes clear of the brackish fluid and blinked them open, gaze finally focusing in on Gordon. He stood before Tommy with a steadying hand on either shoulder, space between his eyebrows creased with concern while rivulets of water ran off of him. 

Tommy let out a quiet sigh and gave him a weak nod.  _ I’m okay. _

Gordon released him as soon as he was sure he could stand on his own. “Tommy, was that your passport?” he asked, chest heaving as he caught his breath. 

“That was Tommy’s passport,” Bubby confirmed.

Tommy paused, brow furrowed, trying to recall ever seeing anything passport shaped in the murk. Water dripped and puddled around his shoes. “...No,” he said. How would that even make sense? A passport the size of a flatscreen, spinning in some alien pool, detonating upon impact? Seemed impossible, but so did a lot of other shit in this place.

Gordon’s eyes were alight, like he was on the edge of some conclusion. “That was your passport,” he insisted. “Is it in- it’s not in your pockets. Check your pockets. What’s going on?”

A span of silence stretched as Tommy wrestled with his exhausted brain for context. Maybe this was another physics thing, a side effect of existing on Xen. He scrubbed the side of his jaw with his fingertips in exasperation as he worked over his thoughts.

“He’s checking his pockets,” Gordon explained to the group, humor touching his voice. “He does it with his brain. With his mind.”

That was enough to surprise a light laugh out of Tommy, and when he met Gordon’s eyes, he saw that he was giving Tommy a weary smile of his own. Making jokes even now, even here, just for him. It was a balm to Tommy’s troubled soul. 

“Tommy,” he prompted.

Okay, he’d humor him. Tommy slung his rifle over his shoulder and began patting the pockets of his slacks. “That was - ah- that- that wasn’t-” Hmm. Wallet, phone, keys. He checked the waterlogged pockets of his lab coat, too - old receipt, rubber band, gum wrapper - and came up empty. “Yeah, my passport’s missing,” he sighed.

“Okay!” Gordon exclaimed. “Okay, so he took our passports. And that's gotta be-”

“One by one,” Benrey interjected, disembodied voice shivering through the room.

“Oh, fuck,” Gordon hissed, freezing to check for more incoming denizens. When no threat immediately arrived, he continued hurriedly. “There’s gotta be some kinda energy field around it, and the skeletons…” he trailed off, raking his hand through his hair. “I don’t understand this. I don’t get it. But we gotta blow up the rest of those passports. We gotta put an end to this bullshit.”

He dropped his hand and looked to his team. Gordon had suspended his disbelief for the sake of taking down their enemy and was asking the others to, as well. Tommy fingered the rifle strap over his shoulder as he thought it over.

The way Gordon laid it out, this sounded vaguely like some video game thing. Benrey had pulled from Earth again to create an off-brand horcrux out of their passports, for what, spite? To fuck with Gordon? Tommy could hardly parse his motives, why he would set up an elaborate stunt like this when he could just outright kill them. What was he  _ waiting _ for?

Tommy realized belatedly that three pairs of eyes were fixed on him, expectant. He sighed heavily through his nose and nodded. Okay. It was hope. The tiniest, slimmest claw of it, but it was hope. He’d try it. If Gordon was reaching for it, by god, he’d try it.

\---

The subsequent three hours of Tommy’s life were some of the hardest he had to endure, and he’d lived through some pretty shitty ones in the past week. The Science Team hurried through Xen, weapons in hand, dodging skeletons and shockwaves of noise and the horrible flailing limbs of the thing that was Benrey as they sought out the other passports. All of it swirled together in a cacophony of gunshots and white noise, but Tommy knew there were things he’d see on the backs of his eyelids at night after this. 

Bubby’s failed prototypes, crawling and lockjawed. Colored lines of psychic barriers, trapping him in place and squeezing the air out of him. And the skeletons. The skeletons were possibly the worst thing, because Tommy realized he recognized some of them. Nametags clipped to half-shredded uniforms told him that these were the people Benrey had killed in Black Mesa, and now they were conscripted to pursue Tommy and his friends through this nightmare. Looking at them made him sick. Shooting them made him sicker.

They eliminated Bubby’s passport. Then Coomer’s. Benrey attempted to flaunt his, and they took that one out, too. They fell back and regrouped, shaky and warweary with the blood roaring in their ears. How all four of them were still alive was a miracle. Water sloshed around their legs, thick and red.

“Gordon,” Coomer panted as they retreated from Benrey’s looming form. “We’ve got all the passports, but… You - you never had yours with you, did you?”

“No,” he ground out through gritted teeth. His legs were shaking with the effort it was taking him to stand. “It’s in the locker.”

“Bad little boy,” Benrey rumbled from across the room. The skeletons that had loped around him like a pack of wolves were gone, but he still cut a menacing image in his oversized state.

Gordon’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “He’s just waiting to kill us,” he huffed. “He’s just playing with us now. There’s no more portals.”

“No,” Bubby said suddenly.

Tommy, Coomer, and Gordon cast him curious glances. 

His eyes glittered, defiant and steely, behind his glasses as he set his jaw. “I don’t accept this death,” he said with resolve. “I have a plan.”

Tommy caught on immediately. It would be putting Gordon at a huge risk, but it was likely the only chance they had. He turned to Gordon, already hating himself for the suggestion on his lips.

“Do you think you can still get your passport if you go back?”

Gordon cut his eyes over to him. “How can we go back, Tommy?”

We, he said. We, not I. Tommy dropped his gaze, unable to look at Gordon. He wanted nothing more than to follow him back to where this all started, to stand at his side and fix this mess together. The thought of sending him through alone felt like tearing out one of his own organs. He swallowed thickly and didn’t answer him. Tommy was needed here. He would stay here. 

Bubby was already unholstering the weapon he’d kept stashed since they departed from Darnold’s lab. It hummed as he powered it up. “We can go back,” he said, with confidence. 

“Portal gun,” Coomer exclaimed.

Gordon blinked. “So that’s what th-”

“Everyone,” Bubby cut him off. “I need space.”

Tommy and Dr. Coomer exchanged a glance before retreating to a safe distance behind Bubby. Coomer raised his rifle and locked the sight on Benrey in a warning. The entity stayed put, tracking them with his big yellow eyes.

“This’ll be a little trippy,” Bubby warned. “It’ll be a little fucked up. But we’re going to have to take you back to the past.”

“Send me back, Bubby,” Gordon said, bracing himself.

Coomer didn’t take his eye away from the scope as he offered a final, “Godspeed, Gordon.”

“Alright, one last warp,” he sighed. He tossed a disdainful look over his shoulder at the entity. “Later, Benrey,” he growled.

“Peace,” Benrey sneered at a distance, grinning like a wolf. 

Tommy raised his rifle to provide suppressing fire with Coomer while Bubby pulled the trigger. There was a discordant  _ snap _ to his reality that left his ears ringing as a flashfire of green billowed out. He flicked a final look at Gordon, met his eyes just before he blinked out. 

The man smiled, determined and lovely, as he disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes a fucking weedwhacker to this boss fight* hey there gamers
> 
> HUGE thank you to all the people who let me gripe and complain as I wrote this. Fuck xen, nothing makes sense, I'm out. I had to cut so much.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your life sustaining comments and encouragement I owe u a blood debt.


	22. Chapter 22

“So…” Tommy intoned quietly. “Got any weekend plans?”

Bubby looked at Tommy like he was an insane person, which was fair, because at this point he was really starting to feel like one.

Shortly after Gordon was launched backward in time, Benrey disappeared from the plane, leaving the scientists alone in the cavern with only the sound of lapping water to keep them company. A few minutes later, Coomer had decided suddenly that he needed to go back, too. It was a premonition he had, with reasoning he couldn’t quite explain, but he was insistent.

So they fired up the portal gun and sent him on his way. 

When Bubby didn’t answer him, Tommy resumed his waterlogged pace around the cavern. He hated this, hated the waiting, hated doing nothing. There were so many ways this plan could go wrong, and as the minutes crept past, Tommy grew more worried. Even if Benrey didn’t kill Gordon and Dr. Coomer, they could still get trapped back there, lost in the past, doomed to live through whatever offshoot timeline they created. Tommy tried not to think about what changing reality would do to them. He felt that his nose would start bleeding if he dwelled on it too much.

He completed another circuit of the cavern, making brief eye contact with Bubby as he passed. The older gentleman had counted and recounted the ammo in his magazine at least fifteen times now, stoic and silent in his anxiety. Tommy paced. Made lame attempts at conversation. Paced some more. When he’d finally given up on cutting the quiet, Bubby spoke up.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, you know.”

Tommy paused mid-stride, only about a yard away from the scientist. He frowned, not entirely sure what he was talking about, and waited for him to elaborate.

“When we betrayed him,” Bubby clarified. He kept his eyes on the semi-automatic in his hands as he spoke. “I didn’t mean for the soldiers to do that to him. Really.”

Water sloshed around Tommy’s legs as he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Okay,” he said.

Bubby clipped and unclipped the magazine from its holster as he went on. “I didn’t think I would be wrong about him. I’ve never been wrong before.”

“About who,” Tommy asked, “Gordon?”

Bubby nodded, secured his weapon, and sighed. “I was just trying to get him away from us,” he said. He still was avoiding Tommy’s eyes, focusing instead on the pensive lap of dark fluid around his feet. “I didn’t think we could trust him. I… we… betrayed him before he could betray us.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Tommy answered, and Bubby retaliated sharply, “I know that now.”

Silence breathed cold and awkward between them. Tommy watched Bubby’s face as it scrolled through a few emotions, his mouth a taut, thin line. The creases around his eyes were pinched and narrow. He looked exhausted. Tommy guessed he was just as wrung out as the rest of them, even with the enhancements. 

“I…” Bubby tried again. “I just wish it hadn’t happened. If I were to go back…” he traced the stock of the portal gun on his hip idly. “That’s what I would change.”

Tommy stuffed his hands uncomfortably in the pockets of his lab coat, damp and sticky in the humid air. “What’s - why are you telling me this?” he asked.

Bubby shrugged. “I guess I’m trying to apologize,” he answered. 

“Apologize to Gordon,” Tommy said. “Not to me.”

The scientist’s eyes cut abruptly to Tommy’s, finally meeting his gaze. “You’re the one who had to clean it up afterward,” he insisted.

That didn’t quite sit right with him. This whole conversation didn’t, in fact. Tommy folded his arms delicately in front of his chest, tilting his head to the side to study the other man. He looked genuinely sorry, if a little miffed, but sorry didn’t undo what he did. Sorry didn’t make things right.

“Gordon isn’t a mess you made,” Tommy said at length. “He was - he’s - he’s a person you permanently affected with your actions.”

Bubby’s jaw worked in mild agitation. “Will you just accept the damn apology?” he asked. “We don’t even know if we’ll see him again.”

“We will,” Tommy said, with finality, and he resumed his pacing.

They lapsed into an uneasy silence after that. Bubby began circling the cavern, meticulously turning over and identifying the bones left behind by their hijacked colleagues. The thought of handling his coworkers’ remains made Tommy ill, and he kept his distance. He didn’t want to think about how Dr. Eagan from the fuel lab tried to claw his face off post-mortem. Still, it afforded them a little more dignity than lying motionless in an alien lake. What a tragic injustice.

“I always thought these looked kind of like pyramids,” Bubby commented as he hefted someone’s femur in his hand. 

Tommy responded distractedly, keeping his eyes averted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He tossed the bone back in the water with an unceremonious  _ splash _ . “Forget it. Do we have a plan?”

Tommy snorted in reply. “I really – I don’t think this is the – the kind of thing you can plan for.”

Bubby’s tone was irritable as he bent to scoop someone’s wallet out of the murk. “We need to come up with _something_ ,” he said, flicking through to remove the ID card. “I’m not getting trapped here, no matter what happens with Benrey. _I’m_ going home.”

Leveling Bubby with a heavy gaze, Tommy said nothing for a moment. He didn’t wish to entertain this line of thought whatsoever. The likelihood of Gordon and Coomer failing and leaving them alone on Xen was worryingly high, but a stubborn part of him clung to hope regardless.

“We are going home,” he said with conviction. “All of us.”

The truth of his words echoed weightily in the humid chamber. There was no other outcome beyond this one. He felt it deep in the fibers of his heart. 

Bubby opened his mouth, probably to utter a heated retort, at the same time a burst of green light materialized between them, snapping and crackling outward with a blinding flash. Tommy blinked spots out of his vision as the form of Dr. Coomer solidified, swaying on his feet for a second before pitching toward the surface of the water.

Tommy was slower to reach him than Bubby was, who caught and steadied the scientist with a hand on his shoulder. Coomer’s gaze was faraway and his lip trembled in shock.

“Dr. Coomer?” Bubby asked as the light dissolved. 

They watched his face with interest as he gradually blinked into focus. His eyes shifted left, then right, vague recognition flickering behind them. His jaw worked silently until he found his voice. 

“I’m… I’m back,” he guessed.

Bubby patted his shoulder in assurance. “You’re back,” he confirmed.

Coomer stared hollowly at his own hands, watching his tendons stand out as he slowly curled them into fists. The two of them gave him time to orient himself, but Tommy caught Bubby glancing around the cavern, alert for danger.

Once the old man was able to stand on his own, Tommy allowed himself to blurt, “What happened?”

Coomer gazed at him foggily, eyes tracking unseen memories. “I don’t know,” he said haltingly. “I don’t… really remember. We were back at the locker room, and-“ he broke off, blinking as he darted his gaze around the cavern. “Where are we?”

“You’re – we’re on Xen. In a – an alien lair,” Tommy summarized quickly. “Who did you see in the locker room? Mr. Freeman?”

“Was Benrey there?” Bubby added.

Dr. Coomer was shaking his head. “I don’t – I don’t know. Forgive me, gentlemen, my memories seem to be… a little out of order.”

Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets so he could ball them into fists unseen. Shaking answers out of the guy would not only be irrational but also incredibly impolite. His heart rate was beginning to climb, and he inhaled heavily to calm himself. Gordon was alive, he knew that much, somehow; it was an instinct buried in his nerves. But he could still be lost out there in time, and Benrey could still be lurking between the ponderous ticks of the clock.

“What was the last thing you remember happening?” Bubby asked.

Coomer was silent for several seconds, then replied tentatively, “I think I was using the bathroom.”

Before either of them could articulate a response to that, a heavy splash sounded from the other end of the cavern, followed by a familiar voice ringing out, “Guys? Where are you?”

Tommy turned, heart in his throat, toward the sound, barely catching sight of Gordon Freeman emerging from behind a pillar as the air around them electrified. Benrey followed close behind, furling limb by limb into existence between them. He was back to his original proportions, still thirty feet tall and looming, and his expression held something Tommy hadn’t seen on his face before. His rage was fractured as he swung his eyes, lamplike, toward the men below him.

He was afraid.

“Guys! I did it!” Gordon called, his voice reverberating around the chamber with triumph. Tommy heard splashing as he ran to rejoin them. “The passport’s shredded!”

“You did it, Gordon!” Bubby hollered back.

Coomer smiled, somewhat more oriented with the others’ return. “Gordon, I don’t know what you did, but I believe you’ve completely rewritten the course of history,” he remarked, eyeing the entity.

“What?” Gordon panted as he rolled to a stop in front of them.

Tommy watched his eyes pass briefly over the scientists, checking for damage, before landing on Tommy. He looked weary and a little shaken, but the grin on his face was hungry. Seeing him that way put a fire in Tommy’s stomach. Blood and grime smeared his skin and his glasses were smudged and cloudy, but behind the lenses his dark eyes burned. They were going to make it.

Behind him, Benrey was beginning to rise into the air, electricity arcing across the cavern and between his fingers. Tommy tasted ozone as he watched the entity span overhead like a thundercloud, unstable and growling. His eyes were wild, his expression desperate, and Tommy knew that desperate people made dangerous choices.

Gordon was dauntless as he stared up at him. “Benrey,” he called, raising his arm to point with the barrel of his gun. “Time to die, son.”

The entity bared his teeth like a cornered wolverine. “No, wait,” he rumbled.

Arcs of lightning flashed and sparked between the pockmarked pillars, humming as they knit together overhead. Benrey’s form was precariously erratic, and Tommy was sure he saw electricity passing through his joints like thread holding together a seam. The entity was dying. Violently so. The idea was so foreign to Tommy it kept him rooted to the spot far longer than was safe. He didn’t even notice the others retreating from the creature until a hand on his collar yanked him back.

“Come on!” Gordon shouted, his voice ringing in Tommy’s ear. “Everything we got, guys!”

They opened fire. It was all there was left to do. Lightning sparked and lanced like javelins as Benrey tried his best to turn them all to ash. Tommy wondered distractedly how standing in a lake of red water didn’t conduct the electricity and fry them all on the spot. He emptied his mag, reloaded, and emptied it again, his arms shaking to keep the barrel raised in his exhaustion. 

“Gordon, it’s not working!” Coomer shrilled, clicking his finger on the trigger uselessly as his ammo ran out.

It may not have been working, but it certainly was doing  _ something _ to the entity. He roared and thrashed overhead, looking less and less like a living creature as his form slowly ripped and frayed.

Gordon tossed a frantic look in the boxer’s direction. “It’s not enough! What do we do?” he asked, just as Bubby ignited. 

Hot orange light flickered and danced through the cave as Bubby cackled with unbridled glee. The water around his ankles boiled, but the prototype himself was unhurt as fire licked over his skin. The human fireball charged at Benrey, and the creature roared as he was singed by the flames.

Gordon passed an openmouthed look from Bubby to Tommy. “Could he always do that?”

Tommy could only offer a wide-eyed shrug in response. 

Bubby’s stunt cost Tommy his attention, and he was a bit too slow to dodge a lance of lightning that caught him in the shoulder, white hot and burning. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, dropping his rifle in shock as he staggered back. Biting his tongue through the pain, Tommy took cover behind a nearby stalagmite, a hand clutched to the burn wound in his shoulder. The same shoulder with the shrapnel in it. Fucking hell.

As gunfire and electricity popped around him, Tommy fought down nausea and frustration while he crouched in the water. Useless, he felt so fucking useless, cowering while his friends took the brunt of Benrey’s attacks, unable to even shoot now that he’d dropped his weapon. What did Tommy have to offer when he was without his power? How did Gordon Freeman, soft and mortal, make being heroic seem so effortless? Lightning arced past his hiding place and the hair on his arms stood on end.

**THOMAS** , a voice echoed in his skull, and Tommy’s eyes went wide.

“Sunkist?”

**THOMAS, I AM COMING TO YOUR AID.**

Frantically, he looked around, searching for any sign of the psychic animal in the gloom. “I - how did you find me?”

Before the perfect dog could answer him, a great, bellowing roar ripped Tommy’s attention back to the fight. Shoulder still burning with pain, he glanced around the pillar and was met with the impossible sight of Dr. Coomer at three times his original size. A radioactive green glow haloed around him and the stitching of his lab coat popped under the strain of newfound muscle mass. Holy shit. Take cover for thirty seconds and Tommy misses everything.

A couple yards away, Gordon took an awed step back. “Whoa, whoah.”

Coomer’s voice shook the cavern. “ _ Witness my true power! _ ”

Rocks and debris fell from the ceiling, bulleting through Benrey’s nebulous form and splashing into the water below. Tommy scrambled out of his hiding spot to dodge a hunk of cavern rock about to cleave his head open, rejoining Gordon at his side and throwing him a perplexed glance.

“Could he always do that?” he asked, and Gordon laughed.

“Train and fight, Gordon!” the boxer rumbled like a thunderhead. He sprang into the air toward Benrey and began whaling on him. 

Supercharged by Coomer’s transformation, Gordon let out a yell and sprinted toward the entity, spraying insults and bullets. Tommy found himself following closely behind, even while injured, weaponless, and with barely a shred of a plan. Hiding was no longer an option; he only knew he needed to be here, feet firmly planted with a wall of armor in front of him.

He was safest here. At Gordon’s back. Shockwaves and gunfire and Benrey and all. The realization nearly made him lightheaded. 

“Take him out!” Gordon shouted.

The entity in question was beginning to display the damage he was taking from their combined attacks, Screaming and burning and bruising and slowly collapsing in on himself. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion - A car crash that was accelerated by the starburst of light that heralded Sunkist’s arrival.

A brief flick of Gordon’s eyes betrayed his double-take as he caught the retriever flashing through the ether. “What?” he asked. “Sunkist is here?”

“Yes!” Tommy cried as he felt his heart swell. “Sunkist is here - Sunkist is gonna help us!” 

He beamed as his best friend splashed down before them, twelve feet of loyal canine glory. A stray zing of lightning hurtled towards them and Sunkist leapt to catch it in his jaws like a frisbee. The beast’s eyes flashed with excitement while sparks leapt between his teeth. This was a game to him, a fantastic game, and he stood taut and attentive with his gaze locked on Tommy as he awaited an invitation to play.

“Go Sunkist,” Tommy commanded, pointing toward the ultimate chew toy. “Attack!”

Gordon and Tommy stood side by side, watching in awe as the perfect dog leapt into the fray. Benrey writhed and shrieked as he was assailed by the combined efforts of Coomer, Bubby, and Sunkist, who looked like angry wasps up against his colossal form. Electricity sparked and snapped, flashing their retinas with an acid green. He was unraveling rapidly, now, limbs unspooling like a busted VHS tape. 

“This isn’t fair!” his bellow shook the cavern. 

Gordon’s hand found Tommy’s, giving it a short squeeze. His fingers were shaking. Tommy pulled his eyes away from the spectacle to study the other man’s face. Gordon was staring at the entity with a hard determination, brows set and steady, jaw hard and tense. He looked like he was staring down a sheer cliff and needed to jump, all nerves and fear and fire, and even like this, he was stunning.

“I’m gonna end this,” he said, and Tommy only caught his words in the movement of his lips, he uttered it so quietly.

Tommy squeezed his hand and let him go. “Okay.”

The low gravity on Xen and the enhancements in his suit gave Gordon enough clearance to leap impossibly high, a bright orange spark up against a hungry cloud of teeth and hate. For a moment he hung, suspended in the air, eye to eye with a nightmare, before plummeting straight into it.

Tommy’s eyes followed him as he went, praying and hoping like he was a falling star.

“This is it Benrey!” Gordon’s voice rang out. “You’re going to hell! Dying for the first time!”

They collided in a sickly flash of green light that erupted through the cavern, screaming and shocking and burning.

And then Tommy was sprinting through the current of red, catching Gordon as he fell, the weight of his suit against his chest like a meteor impact as they both went splashing into the water. They emerged coughing and spluttering, Tommy’s heart surging with relief to hear Gordon conscious and breathing, and he kept his arms around him as the raging storm that was Benrey roiled blackly overhead. The only thing left of him that was recognizable were the two spotlight eyes boring down on them, scared and shining.

Tommy  _ almost _ felt sorry for him. Just a fleeting shred of humanity, brief and empathetic as he made eye contact with the entity. Gone as soon as it arrived. A tortured scream ripped from whatever used to be Benrey’s throat, outrage quaking the room and shivering their nerves. 

It was over. It was over.

Bubby and Coomer retreated from the entity as he slipped violently from existence, Sunkist following close at their heels. Tommy rose and hauled Gordon to his feet, keeping close with an arm around his shoulders to steady him. The team regrouped together in the warm red sea, eyes raised to witness the storm breaking above them.

Here stood soft, fragile creatures from earth, flawed and bleeding and mortal, unmaking an alien god. Tommy buried his face in Gordon’s hair as the shockwaves washed over them.

As beast and blitzkrieg roared around them, Dr. Coomer’s voice rose triumphantly above the din. “ _ DON’T FUCK WITH THE SCIENCE TEAM! _ ”

Everything fell away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. This fic is gonna kill me. If I die just know it was from writing all the buckwild shit in this boss fight. At least I took Benrey down with me.
> 
> Hopefully, if things go as planned, there will be one chapter left in this beast. Stay tuned.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your support, I appreciate it dearly.


	23. The End

When the white light cleared, Tommy was in a starfield and his hands were empty. The burn wound on his shoulder was already healing over, the pain ebbing and melting away as scar tissue scrawled pale starbursts over his skin. His heart pounded as he cast his eyes around, meeting only streaks of multicolored light, galaxies and nebulas passing by like landmarks on a road trip. 

His breath left him all in a rush as he realized where he was. His father had come to pick him up.

The man in the suit materialized as soon as the thought crossed his mind, clean and pressed as always, hair neat and black as cast iron. His shadowed eyes swirled like the stars around them as he regarded his son. They stood, facing one another in the void, standing on nothing. Tommy waited for his father to speak first.

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” the man in the suit said with a smile.

Tommy stared at him, robbed of words. Birthday? Today was his birthday? Slowly, he raised his hands to clutch at his hair, drawing in a thin, shaky breath so he wouldn’t fall apart completely. The dissonance of something so routine happening in the midst of this disaster made him want to scream. 

Birthdays had always been mundane to him, another insignificant turn of the wheel. But after what he’d just survived, he wondered if it was something worth celebrating. He was indescribably tired.

Thirty seven. Thirty seven revolutions around the sun. It was the worst day of his life.

He didn’t know how to respond to his father, who had plucked him out of Xen for a chat after turning his back on him hours before. There was definitely not a ‘thank you’ on his lips, and his mind was clouded with all the ways he could accuse his father of abandoning him, none of them coherent or respectful. He eyed the other man wearily and finally settled on asking, “the others?”

“Alive and well, I assure you,” his father answered. “I must congratulate you on your success in dealing with this… little issue.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed as he computed. “Success?”

“I certainly would not have been able to remedy the situation without the help of you and your associates.”

He laced his fingers behind his head and tilted his chin to the star-streaked void above him so he no longer had to look at his father. “You couldn’t have just taken care of this on your own?”

His father chuckled grimly. “Hardly. At least, not in a manner as quick and efficient as this one.”

_ Efficient? _ “Do you know how many people died?”

“I can say with confidence, Thomas, that far more would have died if the four of you had done nothing at all.”

Tommy dropped his arms from behind his head and instead pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, inhaling heavily through his nose. He didn’t answer, fighting for control of his facial expression while his father examined him. This man couldn’t possibly grasp the scope of what Tommy had just lived through, what the week’s events had done to him. He didn’t have that kind of perspective, being a god and all that; all that mattered was that his plan had worked.

Success. They had succeeded. Mission complete, crisis averted. He felt awful.

His father broke the silence evenly. “I took the liberty of upholding our little family tradition,” he went on. “The entire venue has been rented out, as usual, and I will be personally extending invitations to your new... hm. Friends.”

Tommy paused from kneading his eyeballs in consternation to give his father a puzzled look. “The scientists?” he asked. He could think of no one else.

The man in the suit eyed him with amusement. “Yes, the scientists,” he affirmed. “The experiments known as Bubby and Harold Coomer, as well as your ‘Mister Freeman.’”

“He’s not  _ my- _ “

“I am well aware of the nature of your relationship,” his father spoke over him, “and I will be having a little chat with him before we convene at the entertainment center.” His eyes glittered not so much in threat as in curiosity. 

This didn’t feel to Tommy like the appropriate course of action to take at all. He still recalled clearly on day two of this disaster, when Gordon had told him he planned on sleeping for five days after this was over. Sleep for five days and get a Big Mac. After everything the man had just survived, that was the bare fucking minimum of what he deserved, and Tommy had half a mind to drive Gordon to a McDonald’s himself.

“You can… probably just send him home, I think,” he intoned quietly. That was all Gordon wanted, this entire time. Everything he fought for, everything he endured. Home. Home. He just wanted to go home. Tommy’s stupid birthday could go on without him.

“I’m afraid Mister Freeman does not have a home to go to. Black Mesa, including his living quarters inside, was completely destroyed.” He lifted his brows in a way that didn’t quite line up with the tone he was attempting to convey. “He might as well have a little fun before he goes house hunting, hm?”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Some reward for saving the world. “Can you at least – I don’t know – do something about the hand?”

His father threaded his fingers together behind his back. “I can do something about the hand,” he said conclusively. 

The galactic landscape passed on in silence. Tommy kept his gaze on the void beneath him, refusing to meet eyes with the man who was so clean and spotless while his son looked like a dead thing Sunkist had dragged in from the back porch. Exhaustion made his bones heavy and his posture downcast. 

After a thoughtful pause, Tommy’s father went on. “I suppose you need some time to yourself. I trust you’ll be able to find your way... home, from here, yes?”

Distractedly, Tommy splayed his fingers, feeling the power that had abandoned him on Xen sizzling beneath the surface of his skin. His pulse ticked down to a more manageable pace and he nodded silently. His father was right once again.

“I shall take my leave, then,” he concluded. His visage began to fade as he leapt from the dimension. “I’m proud of you, son.”

Tommy raised his eyes just in time to watch his father disappear. 

He didn’t have the energy to cry once he was gone, though he could feel from the prickle behind his eyes that he probably needed to. Proud. He was proud of him. What was that pride worth, at the death of so many innocent people? Tommy felt cold deep in his chest, and it wasn’t just from floating in the vacuum of space.

He missed Gordon already.

\---

The Chuck E. Cheese location in Las Cruces, New Mexico, was a place Tommy Coolatta knew quite well. He expected the venue to bring warm familiarity with it after the past week’s events, but he wasn’t fully prepared for the heavy thump of nostalgia in his chest as he opened the door. The rows of tables, the multicolored lights, the arcade games, all called back to happier days he’d spent with his father here. Once he’d outgrown what was essentially a children’s casino, the two of them had kept up the birthday tradition as a little joke within the family. Besides, one was never  _ really _ too old for a round or two of skee ball.

The venue was empty, save for the disinterested staff. Tommy ordered a cheese pizza, found himself a seat at one of the tables, and waited. 

It was strange, being here. The music and the flickering lights would have made the experience feel otherworldly if Tommy hadn’t literally just been in another world. He felt remote and detached, like the past week’s events were his reality and the entertainment center he sat in was merely a fever dream. Tommy closed his eyes and took in the smell of pepperoni and grease and whatever cleaning product the staff used to wipe down the tables. Underneath it all the iron scent of blood still lingered on his skin. He desperately needed a shower.

Bubby and Coomer arrived after a while via portal, dropped unceremoniously from the ceiling in front of a staff that was perplexed but not paid enough to care. The older gentlemen looked just as haggard and warweary as Tommy felt, joining him at the table as soon as their eyes lit on him.

They helped themselves to the pizza he was working on. They didn’t talk. There was nothing to say.

Weirdest birthday ever. 

Bubby eventually made an offhand comment that he had never been to a Chuck E. Cheese before. His tone of voice was neutral, but the pinch of his eyes betrayed his curiosity as he flicked his gaze between the arcade games. 

“Never?” Tommy asked at length.

Bubby nodded. “I’ve never left the facility,” he admitted.

Dr. Coomer exchanged a surprised look with Tommy as music thumped in the background. After some thought, the scientist wiped his hands on his napkin and gave Bubby a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Chuck E. Cheese is an excellent example of what the outside world has to offer, Dr. Bubby,” he told him, smiling tiredly.

Tommy snorted into the slice of pizza he was eating. The remark was almost enough to lift his mood away from the pit of anxiety in his stomach. Maybe he really could call these gentlemen his friends. Or, at least, he might learn to do so in time.

Bubby and Coomer excused themselves to try their hand at the arcade games. Tommy remained seated, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, too antsy to partake. He checked his phone, only to find it waterlogged and dead. He tossed it onto the table in disgust. Who would he call, anyway? The one person he wanted to talk to wasn’t in his address book.

His father was taking too long. Why was he taking so long? What was there to discuss with a man who just put his life on the line to seal an alien rift? Tommy watched the remainder of the pizza grow cold on the table before him. He ached in every way there was to ache. 

Just as he was beginning to debate leaving his seat for a couple nervous rounds of air hockey, space split open across the room and a portal appeared. Tommy froze, watching the air shimmer and warp as someone stepped out of it. 

And there was Gordon Freeman, alive and exhausted, blinking in disorientation as he touched down onto solid earth. 

Tommy ran to him, chair clattering to the floor in his haste.

Gordon’s eyes barely flickered in recognition before Tommy collided bodily with him, arms flung around his neck. The HEV suit dug hard and unyielding into his chest, a discomfort ignored in favor of the other man’s arms returning his embrace, warm and solid. A shaky exhale sounded in his ear and he felt tears spring unbidden to his eyes. He made it. This wonderful, insane survivor. He made it, and he was hugging Tommy so hard he thought his spine might snap. 

The other man’s voice was broken up with relieved laughter. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday, man.”

Tommy wasn’t letting go of him just yet, staccatoing his response into Gordon’s neck. “Sorry, I was - I forgot.” The sound he made was a sob disguised as a laugh, or perhaps vice versa.

“It’s okay,” Gordon chuckled, and it sounded like he was fighting for control over his voice, too. “We were a little busy.”

Tommy’s shoulders shook with mirth, awash with joy and wonder as he clung to him. The lights and the music around them didn’t matter, nor did the stars or the hungry void beyond. They could figure out their new reality one fragile step at a time. As long as they could stand together, feeding each other with laughter, they could find their way.

\---

The party didn’t end up being too bad, even if the timing was a little weird. For all the exasperation Tommy held with his father at present, it still meant a lot that a man who played time like it was a pickup basketball game still tracked how many times Tommy had orbited the sun. The Science Team played a couple arcade games, ate their first real meal in days, and took turns splashing their faces and cleaning the blood from under their fingernails in the bathroom sink. It was an interim recovery, a pit stop on the way to rejoining life. 

By the time it was over, everyone felt a little more human. Human enough, at least, to step outside the liminal space they found themselves in and return to Earth. Far flung explorers, lost inside themselves. Off in search of home, whether that home was found or they built it with their own two hands.

Tommy stepped out to the parking lot, the asphalt washed white and stark in the floodlights. The cool night smelled like juniper and sagebrush. He waved goodbye to Bubby and Coomer, who decided to make their own way from here after bidding him final birthday wishes. His father had vanished a while ago to deal with some cosmic follow-up to the Xen issue. Thankfully, Tommy got a pass on that.

That left Gordon, who he found leaning against the side of the restaurant, staring vacantly out at the parking lot with his eyes half open. The jingle of a staff member’s key ring startled him out of his reverie, and he slid a look first to the manager locking up, then to Tommy’s quiet approach. He was smaller without the HEV suit on. Softer. It had been a group effort to prise the armor plating off of him and carry it to the dumpster out back, leaving him in just the black utility coveralls worn underneath. 

Where once there was a shield was just a man. Gordon smiled wearily at Tommy as he leaned his shoulder against the faux sandstone next to him. 

“Is someone coming to pick you up?” Tommy asked. 

Gordon sighed, turning to stare back at the vacant parking lot. “No,” he said, his voice small. “I’m still kinda… I was just trying to - y’know - I was gonna figure something out,” he shrugged. “I guess.”

Tommy tilted his head to the side, studying him. “It looked to me like you were falling asleep,” he observed. 

A short, humorless exhale escaped him. “I was doing a little bit of that too, yeah,” he admitted.

His glasses were still smudged to hell and splintered with cracks. Carefully, Tommy reached out to remove the frames from Gordon’s face, sliding them off as gently as he could. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose. He did his best not to jostle it. 

Gordon cleared his throat, returning his gaze from the parking lot to watch him pass a hand over one lens and then the other. “Do you have a ride coming?” he asked.

In the process of literally bending physics to fix the man’s glasses, Tommy tried not to smirk. “I’m - I can teleport, Mr. Freeman,” he reminded him. 

Gordon chuckled softly. “Right. How could I forget?”

“But if you need to go somewhere, I can take you,” he added. 

The lenses were repaired, for the tenth time over. Tommy inspected them for a second before sliding them delicately back onto Gordon’s face, somewhat hesitant to remove his hands as he withdrew. The first time he did this, Gordon was telling him all about what he wanted to do once they made it out of Black Mesa. Even then, it had seemed like an impossible dream, stacked as the odds were against them.

Now that they had done it, that it was real, Tommy felt like they had been handed some a measureless gift. He wasn’t quite sure yet what to do with it, and he guessed Gordon didn’t have much of a clue, either. 

They held one another’s gaze. Gordon’s eyes were as full and clear as a starfield in the wilderness, dark and vast and deep. The lights in the parking lot hummed in the silence. Tommy had never felt quite so lost before, yet never quite so certain of where he needed to be. 

“Thank you,” Gordon said finally, his words holding enough weight to indicate that he wasn’t just grateful for the glasses repair or the offer of travel.

No response seemed an adequate enough reply, so Tommy just smiled at him. For all the nightmares he endured in the past week, he didn’t regret a second of it if he got to see Gordon looking at him like this in the close desert night. He’d completely fallen for him, as hard and as fast as a meteor burning through the atmosphere. 

He felt the threat of tears returning in the tightness of his throat, so he dropped his gaze and cracked a joke. “So… did you still want to get a Big Mac, or-”

“Oh my god,” Gordon cut him off, grabbing Tommy by the lapels and pulling him in.

This kiss was so different from their first one, it may as well have happened in another lifetime. The loss and pain and almosts were replaced with a fierce, blooming hope, a warmth and possibility passing between them in the breaths they took. Tommy raised his hands to tangle in Gordon’s hair, slow and reverent. This was magic, this was sunlight. They may have just lived through hell, but as Tommy kissed Gordon, he knew that he had found heaven right here, in the person he loved. 

When they broke apart, it was soft and gentle, and it wasn’t goodbye.

They stood there, foreheads touching, under the soft full moon. Gordon unknotted his hands from Tommy’s lab coat in favor of winding them around his waist. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled. 

“This is gonna sound - like, this is probably a stupid question, after everything, but like,” Gordon stammered out, breathless and rosy. “D’you wanna get dinner sometime?” he asked. “Y’know, like, somewhere nice?”

Tommy drew away to look at him, a slow grin unfurling on his face. “Was Chuck E. Cheese not fancy enough for you, Mr. Freeman?”

Gordon threw his head back to laugh, clear and sweet, and it was the loveliest sound in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this crazy project. I feel like I learned and grew a lot as a writer from pulling a stunt like this, and I fell in love with the characters all over again as I worked through the series. 
> 
> Thank you to all the people who supported me with their comments and their time and energy as I messaged them at odd hours to bounce ideas off them. You all know who you are.
> 
> And, of course, Cosma. This fic wouldn't exist without you.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Until next time :)


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